


Jewel Monster

by Scarlet_Claws



Series: House Beasts [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Comedy, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Fairy, Human/Monster Romance, M/M, Magic, Male Slash, Naga, Non-Human Genitalia, Rags to Riches, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Shapeshifter, Slow Burn, Smut, Unwanted Roommate, Urban Fantasy, luck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-01-26 04:02:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 71,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21367864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlet_Claws/pseuds/Scarlet_Claws
Summary: Eric's great grand uncle dies, yet his favourite nephew inherits nothing but a single pendant... Until it turns out to be a magic pendant that brings wealth and good luck to its owner. The downside? It comes with a very bitter fae snake, a vouivre, called Dimor. Trapped together by a curse, they must figure out how to live together - and fight the rising attraction that they feel for one another.Updates every Thursday.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: House Beasts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1485317
Comments: 209
Kudos: 176





	1. The Inheritance

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome, dear reader, to the second book of House Beasts. If you wish to go and read the first one, Bedside Monster, you are absolutely welcome to do so even if it won't be necessary to understand the events of this book. Mostly.
> 
> I also wanted to write a few words about Dimor's species, the Vouivre (Voo-i-vr). It is a term I picked from French, since the legend of this particular creature comes from France, and I did so to avoid having to call him a Wivern... Which he isn't, not the type of dragon with its wings attached to the front legs at least.
> 
> Famous legends about this creature include the one of the fairy Melusine, where a man marries a beautiful woman on the condition that he would never look at her when she bathed. Obviously, he did one day, only to discover a winged snake in the place of his wife. Scared, Melusine flies away and was never to be seen again. Other traditional lore about this creature includes the fact that they have a big, beautiful red jewel in the middle of their forehead (most likely garnet) and that their snakeskin can come off when they take a bath, during which they will leave their jewel unattended. It is said that the one that would be able to steal it would enjoy riches unequalled for the rest of their life. But those that get caught while stealing won't make it out of it alive...
> 
> As with many creatures that enjoy skinny dipping in rivers, Vouivres are traditionally women. The first time that I read about them, I was quite young (six years old?) and I wondered why there weren't any men. Today, I know that it's probably because women (or gay men) were never really allowed to daydream about sexy men in rivers, not for the most part of history at least. I'm not saying that my book is going to make up for that loss, that would be pretentious, but I do think that modern storytelling should be given licence to change the canon as it pleases to adapt old tales to our time and mentality.
> 
> And with that, I have said all that needed to be said. I hope, dear reader, that you will have a good time reading about Dimor and Eric.

Eric was furious.

Who wouldn't be? He had spent years working on his relationship with his great-great-uncle. He had endured everything: the susceptibility, the mood swings, the talking to himself, the clinginess, the disappointments, the lies, the weird looks from the rest of the family, everything. And for what?

To be overlooked.

That was supposed to be his day. The day where they were all gathering to open old Richard's testament, to know who would be the one that gets the fortune he had amassed over the years. He had not expected to get it all, of course, there were other people the old man cared for - his two ex-wives and kids, among others - but at least something. Anything! A small sum would have done, or the house, the garage, the boat, the ranch in the united states, the chalet in Switzerland... Something he could have resold for a lot of money at least.

He wasn't even sure that this ancient pendant was worth anything but sentimental value. One didn't get rich with feelings.

Of course, the fact that he, Eric, the descendant of a second male child, had gotten it rather than the old leech's first child was something in itself, no matter how dated the tradition must seem for someone living in this day and age. Uncle Richard's first wife had made a face when that had been announced, but she had not even commented. Why would she complain? She had received money, enough money to get that boob job she had dreamed of since her breasts had started to sag. What she wouldn't be using, her kids would be spending on coke, probably. In six month it will be all gone. Why had he given his money to her? They weren't even smart enough to invest in real estate.

As for the second wife... She was a gold digger since the start. Which totally wasn't the same thing as he, mind you, because he at least had been family. And he had liked the crazy old badger as well. Had, of course, because there was no way that Eric was going to forgive him this stunt now.

He drummed his fingers on his wheel at a red light. A pang of pain tightened his chest as he thought of old uncle Richard. Well, maybe he'll forgive him someday. He was crazy but at least he wasn't a bad person.

But why would he let Eric, his favourite nephew Eric, walk away with nothing after his death? Didn't he care?

Eric might be young but he had ambitions. His dreams, he liked to call them. Some wanted to be president, other renowned book authors, while he wanted to be rich. Fancy cars, villas in the south of France, private jets and pretty boys: everything could be bought with enough money. He would be a good rich too, he would give to charities sometimes, especially those that took care of poor children, not to say that be was quite handsome. He would be the perfect billionaire moms loved to read about in their cheap romance novels. Well, except that be was gay. The young and willful protagonist would have to have a dick... Scratch that. He would have to be very well endowed. And a gym adept. And experienced in bed - to hell with that virginity thing, Eric hated virgins ever since he wasn't one anymore. If he was going to dream up a perfect partner, he wanted them to be utterly depraved and very experienced.

Too bad Eric won't be meeting the perfect trophy husband any time soon. All that because some fucking old man that had spent his whole life hoarding money like a dragon suddenly gave it all away to the wrong people on his deathbed. And he got a pendant.

The logical solution would be, of course, to sell the necklace and see if he could get started with that, but now that was the only thing he had that reminded him of his uncle. As tempted he was to toss it away out of anger, he wasn't going to because he knew that he would regret it later. So selling it was out of the question, even if the stone was remarkably large and the gold ring that enclasped it seemed to be made of pure gold. Even if couldn't, for the life of him, think of a way to coordinate it with an outfit. Big stones like that had fallen out of fashion for everyone except old women.

A thought came to him as he drove into his underground parking lot: maybe it was a challenge. The old man was capable of such a low blow. 'Take that, and show me that you got what it takes to get things done!' That could even be read as paying homage to Eric's potential. Maybe. It still would have been better if things could have been just handed to him.

Eric estimated that he had every reason to be mad at the moment, so he allowed himself to slam the door when he got back home and even tossed the old box on his dining table. If it was going to be scratch, he would worry about that later. Anton wasn't even home yet, he was probably working late again, so Eric had no one to complain to. He groaned and made himself a coffee.

Once he was settled down with his smoking mug, he started at the box on the table, staring at it. It was made of precious wood essence, Eric was sure of it because he knew that his uncle had had it redone while he lived and that it had cost a fortune. He didn't know what in the world that wood was. He didn't really care, except for the fact that he thought it curious that a man that hated fancying himself up had put so much importance in a piece of jewellery. Maybe it was because it had been in the family for generations?

Maybe there was some sort of story tied to the pendant. Eric regretted that he didn't know what it might be. That didn't stop him to feel some sort of secret pride from the fact that he was the owner of the family's traditional jewel. It was ego-flattering. Not enough for him to forget his humiliation though.

He put his mug away and opened the box. Inside, resting on a dark velvet cushion, was the infamous pendant.

If anything, Eric had to admit that it was very pretty. The precious stone looked to be some sort of ruby or at least a brilliantly coloured garnet. The ring of gold that held it had been shaped to be reminiscent of some sort of scales. When Eric was small and still full of foolish imagination, he had thought it to be a gem coming from a dragon's treasure. His uncle Richard might have told him something similar, too, now that he was thinking about it. It was very flat, ideal to be worn under clothes, which the old man had often done. He used to pull it out of his collar and rub it with his thumb when he was troubled or deep in thoughts.

He wanted to try it on.

The idea was not that surprising on its own. After all, the pendant had been worn for generations by the family of Blanchefleur and that family was quite powerful. Eric might not know the story of the pendant in itself, but he did know about the immense riches his ancestor had gathered. His bloodline was one of wealthy merchants and wise traders. It was just too bad that all the money seemed to have been squandered in other family branches that his. Just thinking about it made Eric feel as if the universe was being unfair with him. To think that he could have been born rich...

Whatever he told himself. He would become rich on his own. If his great-great-grandfather and his great uncle had managed it, he would manage it too.

It was with those thoughts that he slipped the chord of his new pendant over his head and walked towards the mirror.

It really was a shame that he couldn't possibly think of some way to wear it that would make it passable, it was really a pretty piece. Eric was not above dressing flamboyantly, he simply didn't know what to do with a necklace. Maybe if he refashioned it into some sort of pin? That's probably what he was going to do, even if having someone make him custom jewellery would be expensive.

He stroked the stone slowly, almost lovingly. Its surface was smooth. It didn't occur to him that the fact that it was also warm was strange, not until later when he would examine it again. He just thought that it was really, really pretty.

Something moved in the corner of his eye, reflected in the mirror.

He turned around, his eyes quickly scanning the hallway, but there was nothing. Strange, he was certain that he had seen something move, although Anton wasn't home. Or was he?

He stepped in the kitchen to check. What he didn't expect was someone to be there, sitting at the table while looking out the window. When Eric walked in, the stranger turned his attention to him but in the same way a lion would look at a visitor of a zoo. His eyes had a hypnotic quality to them from their colours alone, dark green with a line of red beneath them that made them stand out.

Everything about the stranger stood out. His long, sensual black hair, his coral coloured lips, his golden skin, but also the scales on his hands and the side of his face, that dotted him like the shells of small molluscs covering something that had been submerged for a while. His face had a cofounding symmetry, making him look even more inhuman, like a statue. His face wasn't as young as it was ageless. And his eyes - again, his eyes - stared right into Eric's soul.

Naturally, Eric grabbed a chair and held it as a weapon.

"What the fuck," he said. "What the fuck? Who are you?"

The stranger leaned on a hand and sighed. The sound was delicious, it hinted to a voice made in heaven. It teased Eric's ears, made him shiver. This was ridiculous. Eric was supposed to be kicking him out, not to be charmed by him on sight. Strikingly handsome people in cosplay didn't have their spot in the flat Eric shared with his boyfriend.

"Don't attack me," said the stranger. Indeed his voice was as marvellous as Eric had imagined it to be.

"How the fuck did you come in?"

"Though the door."

"Wow, ten on ten sass. Get out of here, you lunatic."

"You're the only one with a chair here." The stranger picked up Eric's mug.

"That's my coffee."

The intruder looked at Eric right in the eye as he downed it.

"Hey! Don't... asshole! What did you do that for?"

"What if I told you that I could make you so rich that you could buy enough coffee to drown yourself?"

Eric hesitated. Not going to lie, this sounded interesting. Not the drowning in coffee part, the rich part. He squinted as the stranger.

"Go on."

"Wow, you're really greedy."

"If you aren't serious, get out of my home."

"It's my home too now."

"No, it's not! I'm already taken so fuck off."

The intruder looked at him as if Eric had insulted him. Or rather, looked at him as if he had successfully insulted him, for once.

"Me?" The man with red hands sneered. "With you? In your dreams."

"Good." Eric waved his chair around, trying the best to look intimidating. "Now out."

"No."

"I'm going to hit you."

"Do that and you lose your money."

Eric narrowed his eyes.

"You expect me to believe that you, a random person that walks into my house, just have some money to give me. Out of the blue. Just like that."

"Oh, I can do you one better. I expect you to believe in magic."

"Yeah, no."

"All right, fine with me. Hand over that necklace then."

Eric's hand went to his pendant, gripping it. That was what the stranger was after: the last thing he had gotten from his uncle.

"Never," he spat.

"Suits yourself, guess I'll just wait until you die like the last one. In the meantime, I'm going to be waiting right here." The intruder kicked back and crossed his legs. "Oh, by the way, I do eat, so I'll just serve myself in the fridge."

"No, you are getting out. Now."

"Dog that barks don't bite."

Eric thrust the chair in the other's direction. The latter didn't even flinch as it stopped a breath away from his beautiful face.

"I like fish, by the way," said the man. "Any will do, although I do expect you to upgrade to higher quality as you get richer. That's the least you can do to me."

"All right, what are you even on about?" Eric's arms were starting to tire, so he put the chair down. "You come into my house, threaten me--"

"I didn't--"

"Steal my coffee, threaten to steal my food, threaten to steal literally the only thing I got from my dead great uncle--"

"Technically, it's mine--"

"Just tell me what you want!"

"The stone you are barbarically wearing around your neck. Really, humans are gross. You are aware that you are literally wearing a living body part?"

"Wait. What?" The stranger had said some pretty whacky things since he had just magically appeared, but this topped it off. Eric had the surreal impression that it was all a dream already, so he might as well roll with it. "Humans? You aren't one yourself?"

This was as if the stranger had been waiting for this question. His face brightened up and he stood up proudly. Eric noticed that a tail, long and lizard-like, poked out from under his clothes. That was surprising and didn't look fake, but it wasn't the time to comment on it.

"Finally," said the intruder, "you asked. I am indeed, as you can see, far under my usual station when I remain among the humans. Sad, I know. My name is Dimor, and I am a Vouivre. For you that, that obviously wouldn't know what it was, let's keep it simple and say that I have both fairy and dragon blood. And the reason you can see me is that the jewel you are wearing around your neck is my heart."


	2. Vouivre, Beautiful Vouivre

Eric remained quiet, staring at him.

"As expected, you don't understand," said Dimor. "I knew that it was only wishful thinking to imagine that you would know anything of the Invisible Realm. Let me take this from the top, then."

He planted his legs firmly on the ground, standing proudly in front of Eric. He was very pretty but his expression was cold. One could even think that he had hate in his eyes, but why would he hate Eric? They had only just met, right?

"Sit down," ordered Dimor.

Eric obeyed. He felt as if he was going to need it. Having a strange man in his kitchen was already a lot to take and it looked to be all uphill from there.

"So, now that you've finally stopped acting like a maniac, I will explain it to you." Dimor spoke in an insultingly slow tone, as if he was addressing himself to a retard. "Humans love to imagine that the world turns around them, but it doesn't. Since the beginning of time, they shared this world with creatures that they couldn't necessarily see - what they would call supernatural creatures. These creatures live beyond the Veil - the Invisible Veil - meaning that unless the human trains or is especially gifted, they can't be seen. Or touched."

"You are absolutely bonkers."

Dimor ignored him. "However, in certain conditions, the humans can see beings of the Veil - again, if they are trained, gifted, but also if the being has the ability to reveal themselves or under certain conditions. Right now, it is the latter situation."

"Right. Okay." Eric didn't believe a word he was saying, but it didn't seem like the handsome Dimor was going to move until he was done telling him his quack story. "So what sort of conditions are met now for us to be able to talk?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

There was a silence. Eric realized that the other was expecting him to answer, but he had no idea. He didn't speak crazy.

"You have my heart around your neck," said Dimor. "Technically, you are my new owner. Trust me, I don't want you to be able to see me any more than you do."

"Your heart." Eric looked down at his pendant. Dimor had already called it that but he had not paid attention to it up to now. "Your heart is a rock."

"Sorry I don't abide by your impossible body standards," replied Dimor, sarcasm dripping from his honey-laced voice.

"You expect me to believe that your heart is a rock."

"Yes."

Eric looked at Dimor. He was absolutely serious about this. Eric was going to need something stronger than coffee to take that in. He got up and opened a cabinet, looking for some wine. Dimor politely waited for him to come back before telling him the rest. As long as he didn't get dangerous, Eric would allow him to do so. It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that the Dimor could easily pass as a model.

"Your pendant is my heart, and your ancestor stole it... something like two hundred years ago. I've been passed down in the family ever since."

"How old are you?"

"Four hundred. No, I will nor recite to you any human historical events that occurred during my lifetime, I don't care for human politics and they always change up the real story anyway after the facts."

"That's awfully suspicious of you to say that."

"I don't really care if you believe me or not."

Eric took a sip of his wine, contemplating. The man did have a tail after all, and the more he looked at it the more he doubted it was fake. The scales could easily be made with makeup so they didn't count. But the thing that made him doubt his own judgement the most was that it made no sense for a random stranger to dress up, sneak into his house and tell him all sort of stories about some Veil and invisible people... unless it was true. After all, he had already heard the tales. There were people out there that would have taken this as a confirmation of their initial belives.

Maybe there was some truth in what Dimor said. Eric was going to need proof, but he was starting to accept the possibility that it may be all true.

"Are you like - how are they called - childhood hallucinations?"

Dimor scoffed, as if the very question was beneath him. "Childhood tales. You are aware that those are lies set up so that you can be easily controlled, right?"

"Controlled?" Eric smiled. Conspiration theories now, was it? This was getting amusing. "Controlled by who?"

"By those that don't want you to realize that they are the ones in charge, of course." Dimor sat down. "If nothing but humans exist, if all creatures beyond the Veil is nothing but fantasy, it would be absurd for anyone to believe that they have powers - say, mind-controlling powers, or great interests in gathering as much riches as they can, or a particular interest in the refined taste of human flesh in a world where you got to be powerful to make a disappearance fly under the radar."

"Yeah. Right."

Dimor sighed. "I've got some relatives on my father's side that do that. Go after human flesh, that is."

"Which one was he?" said Eric, sarcastic. "The fairy or the dragon?"

"The dragon one, obviously." Dimor was not amused by his tone, to say the least. "Although I probably have some on my mother's side that wouldn't spit on human steak if they could get their hands on some without risking too much."

"So you expected me to believe--"

"Yes."

Eric smiled. He had an idea now, something that Dimor needed to prove if he wanted his story to hold itself. "You say that you're part fairy and part dragon, right?"

"Correct."

"Well, they are both magical creatures. Surely you can do magic as well?"

Dimor narrowed his eyes at Eric. Their green colour flickered, flashing brighter for an instant, but it could have been Eric's imagination.

"What human has a tail that moves on its own?" said Dimor. "Isn't that proof enough for you?"

"No. I want to see magic." Eric had him.

Or so he thought. Suddenly Dimor relaxed and smiled at him. He did have a wonderful smile, the time of smile that made one's insides glow warmly.

"All right, I'll show you magic, but to do that I need my heart for a moment. I can't otherwise."

Eric eyed him suspiciously. The sudden change in attitude was a little abrupt but maybe... maybe Dimor knew he could perform magic. Maybe he was looking forward to squandering the last of Eric's qualms. Or maybe he was going to try and bolt with the necklace, which would be a stupid thing to do since Eric was sitting between him and the door.

"So? I really can't perform a single trick without it," insisted Dimor. "If you want a proof that will quiet your doubts once and for all I'm going to need for you to hand it over."

Still suspicious, Eric passed the chord over his head and gathered the necklace in his palm. It felt warm and heavy - too warm and too heary for what it was. Dimor pulled his chair closer, but he was relaxed, effortlessly elegant. He extended an open hand. Slow and steady. Like a hunter approaching a scared prey.

Eric looked up in Dimor's eyes and saw something dark and wicked in them, barely concealed behind the fake soft look of them. Fear seized him and he drew his hand away.

"I'd rather take a closer look at your tail," said Eric.

The metamorphosis was so instant that it sent a cold chill down Eric's spine. Dimor's eyes hardened, his expression changed in a second. There was nothing but hate on his face now, a hate that stole away his beauty. This had been his true feeling all along. Eric drew his hand away further. He didn't dare put words on it, even in his mind, but he knew that he had just slipped dreadfully close to a dangerous situation.

"Very well," spat Dimor. There was a low hiss at the back of his throat, like a sound that wanted to escape him but couldn't. "Have it your way."

He turned around and lifted the bottom of his shirt. His pants seemed to have been fashioned for humans, originally, but adjustments had been made and there was an opening for the rather large base of his tail. The latter was full, fleshy, and reminded Eric of the python he had once seen at the vivarium. The brilliant red scales that covered it went up his spine, disappearing underneath the rim of Dimor's clothes.

Eric's heart was beating wildly in his chest and his hands were shaking. He put the pendant back around his neck and hid it under his shirt. He still needed a moment to compose himself after what had just happened.

"It's not artificial, as you can see," said Dimor. His tone was cold, albeit a bit more controlled than before. "It's warm too."

Eric nodded and reached for it. Its scales were smooth and surprisingly soft. He could feel the powerful muscles in it, making it twist around his hands. There was something greatly satisfying about holding it, with how full and pliant it was. Eric was pleasantly surprised in that regard. His hands glided up, searching for a seam he was starting to doubt existed and slipped on the underside near its base...

Dimor, lightning-quick, turned around and slapped him across the face.

"What the--" sputtered Eric.

"No one ever taught you about private parts?" spat Dimor. He was very red in the face.

"Oh." Oh. Eric had been so focused on his weird anatomy that he had lost track of where his fingers were venturing. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean--"

"If you ever touch my tail every again, I promise that this slap will seem mild in comparison. Understood?"

"Right. Sorry. I swear I didn't mean to do that."

Dimor huffed and sat back down, on a chair in front of him. "Do you believe me, now?"

Well, if anything that tail had certainly felt very alive. Eric had no choice but to believe the part about Dimor not being human. Which in turn made his story about the Veil more plausible, which pointed to the possibility that the human race could be controlled by a bunch of flesh-eating lizard people. Maybe. He was going to need time to sort out through everything.

"Well, I guess that I can believe the part about you not being human."

"Hmpf. Well, it can't be helped. I always knew that you would be a hard one to convince ever since Richard got this strange idea in his head."

Eric nodded, thinking about his uncle. So, after all this time, the old man had been living with this vouivre. Not his entire life, of course, but after he had inherited the pendant himself. Was Dimor always so sassy? Eric remembered Richard carrying his necklace often, albeit under his clothes. Now that he knew the truth about it, their relationship intrigued him.

"Say, if you can't use magic without the jewel, why did my great uncle even keep you around?" asked Eric.

"Because they are other benefits to keeping me."

"Such as limiting your intake of coffee consumption?"

"Har har. Such as having luck in business, and having riches naturally come your way."

Eric blinked a few times. "Come again?"

"I wasn't kidding when I was saying that I'll make you rich. The reason why you humans keep me so long is that my heart brings wealth and fortune to the one that owns it."

"What, like a philosopher's stone?"

"Do I look like I can bend the matter of the universe to my will?"

"You have a scaley tail."

"It's a normal limb you know. Like an arm."

An arm on his butt. Eric chuckled at the mental image and Dimor, suspicious, sent him a dirty look.

"Can you grab things with it?" asked Eric.

"Yeah, but I can hold more when I am in my dragon form."

Eric perked up. "You have a dragon form? For real?"

"Yes. Not that I can change into it without my heart."

"Oh. So, to be clear, you're useless on your own?"

A muscle twitched in Dimor's cheek. "Watch your tone before my useless hand connect with your other cheek."

Eric thought it best to change the subject. The slap from before still stung a little. "So, how does this... luck work? Do I have to do anything?"

"Keep me fed to be fed, keep me happy to be happy. Life will reward you with strokes of good luck, especially in the field of your job. As simple as that." Dimor sighed. "When I was free, I was treasured by every second fairy that saw me because of the good luck I brought. Humans are egoistical creatures."

Eric ignored the complaint. "That can't be too hard. I can give it a shot for a week at least. You can sleep in the guest room and I'll leave food for you. What do you say?"

"... I suppose it will have to do for now."

"It's a deal then." Eric offered him a hand to shake.

Dimor stared at it, then back at Eric. There was nothing but the greatest disdain in his face. "Don't mock me so. I am not an actual willing participant in this, nor am I your friend."

Eric actually felt a little bad about that. He supposed that it wasn't fair that Dimor would find himself held against his will by a human but... as long as he was fed, clothed and lodged, it wasn't too bad now, wasn't it?

Besides, Eric was finally going to be rich. He understood why his uncle had given him the necklace now. Who needed money when he could get money virtually infinitely though work? Maybe he could even become someone famous, like one of those hugely successful businessmen. No one other than Eric seemed to know them actually, but they were known in their own fields.

The sound of the key turning in the entrance door broke him out of his thoughts. Anton was coming home.

"Oh, by the way, no one but you can see me unless they have the power to do so on their own," said Dimor. "In my experience, things can get really messy when people know about me so it's best not to tell anyone, or let anyone but you wear the necklace. Understood?"

Eric only had the time to nod before Anton appeared at the door, smiling at him.


	3. Dinner

"What happened to your cheek?" asked Anton.

Eric rose his hands to it, stroking it. He had not realized that Dimor's slap had made a mark. It made sense to him, that could see the vouivre sitting right across him at the table, but how did one explain it without mentioning invisible people and mysterious Veil magic?

"Accident," he blurted. "Touched a woman on the butt - didn't mean to. I don't want to talk about it."

This was the weakest excuse he had come up with. Luckily for him, Anton was more interested in his distress than how it had happened, exactly.

"Are you all right? Oh, love..." He came close to Eric, stroked his cheek. The latter leaned into his touch.

Anton was a handsome man... not as handsome as Dimor, but the latter might or might not be enhancing himself with magic. Eric's boyfriend was a tall man with light chestnut hair - some called it blond - and dimples when he smiled. Eric didn't care for dimples but Anton was a lawyer - a successful one at that.

They were university sweethearts, if one didn't count the fact that they had never been together in university and had met up again four years later. Anton had to go through three failed relationships with women before realizing that fake it till you make it didn't outrun the gays. Remembering he had had one homosexual friend when he had been in college, he had called Eric and they had met for lunch... mostly to ask for advice. The lunch turned into a walk around the river, and the walk turned into dinner, and before they knew it they were arranging plans for the next date. Six months later, Eric was moving in. Romance of a lifetime, write a script, mail it to Hollywood and wait for the Oscars to roll in. Perfect.

Anton kissed Eric on the lips. "So?"

"So?"

"How did it go?"

The meeting with the notary, right. Eric had taken the day off just for that.

"Terrible," he said.

"Oh..." Anton's eyes softened. "I'm sorry. I know you loved your uncle a lot."

"Yeah. And he only left me a stupid necklace."

"Oh."

Anton seemed a little taken aback. Eric realized, a little too late, that his comment might come across as a little strange for someone that had just lost a member of their family. He cleared his throat and tried again.

"I've visited so many times during his sickness and he gave all his money to his wife and children."

"You mean, to his family?"

"Yeah."

Anton gave Eric an odd look. Best to change the subject for now, Eric decided.

"But how was your day?" he asked.

"Oh, the usual. Nothing compared to yours." Anton seemed to relax. "I'm starving. Did you think about dinner?"

"Oh, well, I was thinking that fish could be nice."

Anton had yet to comment about the vouivre in the room with them. Eric looked around casually, confirming that Dimor was now standing near the window and looked outside, bored. Surely, if he was visible to Anton the latter would have said something. His boyfriend was too polite to ignore someone. Eric needed to think of a way to give Dimor food that didn't seem suspicious. This was going to require some careful thinking.

"Fish? It's been a while since we ate some. We got this salmon that's been laying in the freezer for some time now," said Anton.

"Yeah, how about we throw it all in the pan before it goes bad?" suggested Eric. "If they are leftovers then we can eat it tomorrow. Or take it for lunch at work."

"Eric," said Anton with a smile. "You know I hate leftovers."

"Well, I'm okay with them, so we can just do food for three."

"Is there something happening tomorrow? A meeting with your employees that will make you late for dinner?"

"No, not really. I was just thinking we could... save up on eating out. Or at least I could."

Anton frowned. Eric could see it on his face that he was concerned. That man was way too worried about everything, he was going to give himself a heart attack by just worrying.

"Do you have any financial problems you didn't mention, Eric?" asked Anton. "You know that I can always help out..."

"No? No, really, everything is absolutely fine."

Anton looked at him strangely, then seemingly dropped the matter with a shrug. "Suits yourself. I guess it's salmon for three, then."

Dimor looked back. There was an odd smile on his face. It could be sweet as it could be condescending. It didn't matter, really, for a moment later he was moving to the living room. Eric did his best to watch him move only from the corner of his eye, not to arouse any suspicion.

Dimor continued to stay out of the way as the couple cooked. Eric avoided the subject of his inheritance and tried to go for small talk, but when Anton finally asked about the empty box on the kitchen table he had to pull out his pendant to show it.

"Wow," said Anton, his mouth hanging open. "It's beautiful. Can I take a closer took?"

"Sure."

Anton stepped closed. He smelled nice, he always did. That was one of the things Eric was the most attracted to in him. Anton took the necklace in his hand and examined it, but all Eric could do was look at his face. He remembered Dimor's advice of course, but he wanted to kiss his boyfriend as well. He did so to shut a question when Anton looked like he was about to ask something.

"Ehe," said the man. "You're cute."

"I wish you would have been there," said Eric. "It was horrible. Margretta - Richard's fist wife - wanted the necklace too. She tried to corner me to talk about it after the meeting but I escaped, saying that I needed to meet up with you to the restaurant."

"We could go. It's a good idea."

Eric considered. He was tempted, but then he saw Dimor in the living room over Anton's shoulder, giving him a look. Bastard.

"Nah, I don't want to."

"Your call. It's your turn to pay anyway, so you should at least invite me."

"We'll be fed faster if we make it ourselves at this point and I'm starving. Another time." After leaving some food home for Dimor. God, it was like adopting a dog without Anton's knowledge... or maybe more like a cat. Eric had known one cat in his life and she had been an asshole.

"True. Are you hungry?"

"Starving," lied Eric.

Anton chuckled. The prepared the dinner together, in silence.

"For someone that works in a restaurant, you could be the one cooking between us," said Anton after he had turned around all the salmon in the pen, painstakingly slowly at that.

"Fuck off. You know I'm just the owner."

"You don't like cooking that much."

"I like managing. And besides, I won't be needing to cook anything when I will be at the head of a chain."

"Oh?" Anton was turning the salmon around again. Eric suspected that he was doing that because he didn't know what else to do. "Things are finally going your way?"

"No, not yet. But I got a suspicion that they will soon."

Eric looked at the salmon, wondering if that was enough to feed three people. Maybe he should tell Dimor that there also were snacks in the cupboards he could eat. How was he even supposed to pull that in the long run?

Having nothing to do and in dire need of something to change his mind, Eric pulled out his phone and looked up vouivre. The first entry given to him by his search engine was from a site he had never seen before, called AlphaVeil. The name alone gave him pause. AlphaVeil... like an alphabet? That was such a bad pun. But it did convey relatively well what the site was: an alphabetical list of all the different creatures of the Invisible Realms. He arrived right on the page he was looking for.

The first thing he learned was already old news: that the vouivre was a crossbreed that couldn't reproduce on their own and that one should look at fae (greater) and dragon (water) to learn more about them as a whole.

_Vouivres are very rare and that all known representant were children fo a single couple that currently resided in the Fairy Realm. The name came from the humans, that mistook them for an individual species of winged snakes..._

Snakes? Not dragons? Eric chuckled.

"What are you reading?" asked Anton. He leaned over from his spot to try and take a glance, which meant Eric couldn't lie.

"Some article about... some mystical creature."

"Mystical creature?"

"Vouivre."

"What's that?"

"A big, flying snake."

He heard more than he saw Dimor sending him a death glare from the living room. Or at least he assumed it to be a death glare. The dude hated him, so it made sense that it would be.

"Why are you reading about it?" asked Anton, none the wiser.

"I don't know."

"Did you know that there are some people that believe in this stuff? Like, they got all those terms for it. Some claim that they see them, even though it's been proven that it's all childhood hallucinations. Crazy right? But I would also be messed up if I needed to take the medicine they have to take."

The part about being messed up stung Eric a little. He prided himself on being a quite smart guy. The type that didn't get weird head conditions that messed him up.

"You lost me," said Eric, putting away his phone. "What sort of medicine do they take?"

"Well, there is this condition. Halluci... something. Some people see things that aren't there and they make it stop through medication. Really strong stuff, I heard. It's so strong they aren't allowed to take it when they are still growing so that it doesn't mess with their head for their whole life. Like depression - and then they got to take some medicine for that too."

"Wow. That's sad." Eric wasn't sure he was comfortable learning that. He didn't want to take medication that made him depressed.

"And it's expensive."

"Does this, erm, condition... do you know if it can happen spontaneously?"

"What?" Anton thought about it. "I don't think so. I only heard of cases where they've had it from childhood. But I'm no doctor."

"With how smart you are, you could be."

Anton laughed. His cheeks were pink. He was adorable when he got all flustered from compliments. Eric circled the table to kiss him on the cheek.

"I never could be a doctor," said Anton. "I would thorw up when they do the anatomy course. My mom used to tell me that I would make a good doctor - with how caring I am."

"You care for people. You're even a family lawyer."

"Maybe."

They didn't talk about any Veil-related matter after that, even if they did talk. They enjoyed a very nice dinner. Anton declared the salmon delicious and ate more than his part, leaving less than half a portion for Dimor.

Time for a plan B, thought Eric.

"Eric, when are you coming?" Asked Anton from the living room.

Really, it tore Eric's heart. He knew what was the plan now. They had not talked about it, they never did, but Anton had that look in his eyes told him all about how much he wanted it. If Eric went to him now, they would kiss, and touch, and maybe take things to the bedroom. Or stay on the couch.

Instead, Eric was stuck cooking noodles and he didn't even have a good excuse to give him.

"I just... I really, really crave noodles right now."

Dimor, that was sitting opposite him at the kitchen table, rolled his eyes. "That's weak."

Eric sent him a look that hopefully conveyed how much he wanted him to shut up. Now was not the time.

"You're feeding me noodles," complained Dimor. "Who gets cravings for noodles? If you would be feeding me tofu, or maybe even roasted sardines..." Dimor sighed and laid on the table. "I never get roasted sardines."

He probably did before uncle Richard died. The old man had a personal cook and lived alone. Not like Eric, that couldn't just run off to a shop that was still open at this hour and buy sardines - not without a really good excuse. He wanted to tell Dimor that but he couldn't, not without risking being heard. Instead, he took the leftover salmon out of the fridge and put it in front of Dimor. Maybe that will shut him up.

"Wow, ten on ten serving skills," complained the ungrateful bastard.

"Eric!" called Anton. "Your show is starting!"

"Don't turn it on!" cried Eric. "Anton!"

"I'm watching it all alone, on my own..." Anton's voice was playful, trying to bait his boyfriend to come so he could have things his way. "And I'll spoil you the end!"

"Don't spoil me the end!" Eric made a movement towards the living room but stopped himself. If he went there, he knew Anton would try and grab him - and then who knew when he would be able to come back to his cooking. Something told him he couldn't count on Dimor to look after his own food.

Dimor was making a face as he was picking away the onions from the salmon. With his fingers.

"Oh my god!" cried Anton. "Mary is back from the dead!"

"Anton, for fuck's sake, cut it out!" cried Eric.

That had come out stronger than he had intended. Eric winced as an afterthought but didn't add anything. Anton turned off the show, switched to something else on the current television, then eventually turned it off. Quickly, Eric took the noodles out of the water and dumped them on Dimor's plate before hurrying to his boyfriend.

"Please don't fuck on the couch," said Dimor.

It was as if he said that to taunt him because Anton didn't seem to be in the mood anyone. He sat next to Eric but wasn't the one cuddling up to him, and he didn't make any advance as he usually did. Even later, when they were both in bed and Eric tried to initiate things by kissing his shoulder, he didn't respond. He just smiled and told him goodnight, and turned off the light.

Eric didn't think much of it.


	4. Green Dragon Burgers

It was a good thing that Anton left half an hour earlier every day. Eric didn't know what took him so long, but Dimor wasn't out of bed. Was he sleeping in? On a workday? 

He rushed in the guest room. Dimor was sleeping like a baby in the bed, dark hair spread all around his face like a halo, his bare shoulders showing from beneath the blanket, tempting and soft-looking. Eric tore his eyes away from them and opened the curtains. Not that there was a lot of sun outside at the moment. 

"Rise and shine," he told the vouivre. 

There wasn't any reaction. 

Eric tried to talk to him several more times but, eventually, he had to climb on the bed and physically shake Dimor awake before he got a reaction. The vouivre looked at him with empty, glassy eyes. 

All right. Not a morning person. A good thing Eric was ready to go already because this was going to take a while. 

"Come on, get up," he said. "We're going soon. Take a shower while you can." 

That at least seemed to get Dimor's interest. His eyes widened a little bit and he muttered "shower", before sitting upright in the bed. The blankets fell off him, revealing that he had no shirt. This time, Eric looked away before he could get a good look. 

"The bathroom is down the hallway. We are leaving in half an hour, so be quick." 

"Ah... get out," answered Dimor in a sluggish tone.

"Excuse me?" 

Dimor tried to send him a dark look but he only looked sleepy. "I'm naked. Get the fuck out of my room." 

His room? Eric scoffed as he left. Ungrateful bastard. 

He went back to the kitchen and got on his phone to read up some more on fairies and dragons. He had just found his way back to the strange site he had found yesterday when he heard a bang and a shout which made him jump to his feet. He peered in the hallway. Dimor, in pants, was on the ground, holding his face in front of the bathroom. Had he hit himself with the door? 

"Are you alright?" asked Eric. 

"Fuck off!" cried Dimor back. 

Wow, okay. And here Eric was thinking that Anton wasn't a morning person because he couldn't stand the smell of eggs until nine o'clock. 

Dimor crawled into the bathroom and slammed the door. The water came on shortly after and ran for a long while. What was he doing? Eric checked his watch nervously. He remembered that the other didn't have any towel. He wondered if he should go in there but he didn't want to risk awakening the dragon, even if the only fire he had spat so far was insults. 

In the end, he went to knock at the door. 

"Dimor it's been twenty minutes, when are you going to get out?" 

There was a loud urg and the water came off. Silence. Eric waited. 

"Which one is my towel?" asked Dimor.

"Take one under the sink," said Eric. 

"You didn't take out a towel for me?" 

Oh wow. What was the other thinking? That Eric was some sort of maid for him? "Just pick a brown one, those are mine." 

"All right." There was a silence. "What about clothes?" 

"Is your shirt in the bedroom?" 

"I've been wearing it since Richard died. Please burn it." 

Eric rolled his eyes. "I'll lend you my clothes, then." 

Dimor didn't answer. Eric took it as a sign that he was expected to leave. He picked the first shirt and the first pair of pants he found and threw in some socks. Underwear? That was just too weird to lend that to a stranger. Dimor was going to have to do without. He knocked, passed the clothes through the door when Dimor cracked it open and was about to walk away when the vouivre had yet another complaint. 

"They don't colour match." 

"It's... It's black and grey, Dimor. They match perfectly."

"If I going to be wearing some black, I want it to be all back." 

"Wear this or wear nothing at all." 

There was some wordless grumble from the other side but it seemed that Dimor complied. Eric checked his watch and went to prepare Dimor's breakfast. He didn't want to but they didn't have the time to do otherwise. 

The hairdryer came on, and suddenly Eric remembered the long, long locks of Dimor. He had wetted them? 

He walked back to the bathroom door. "Dimor, be quick, we don't have much time." 

"Urg." 

The drying continued on. 

"I'm serious, Dimor, we need to leave in like..." Watch check. "Five minutes." 

Dimor started singing.

"_There was a mosquito 'n Eric was his name,_  
_He wanted to go fast but he didn't with that game,_  
_He buzzed and puffed but all he did was fail_  
_And the slow turtle left him in its trail._"

Eric was wordless. Dimor had a pretty singing voice, that much he could admit, but that must have been the first time ever he was insulted with a song. 

"Dimor! I'm serious. You are going to have no breakfast if this goes on." 

"If you give me any food now I'm going to puke on you." 

"All right, fine, but don't complain that you are hungry later." 

The only thing that answered him was the hairdryer. Whatever. Eric was already pissed off and he hadn't even left the house. 

Dimor emerged from the bathroom right when it was time to leave. Eric sniffed the air around him discreetly. He smelled really nice, but not like any perfume that he or Anton used. Was it his natural smell? Not that he had any time to dwell on it, since they needed to be gone soon. 

Dimor flopped across the backseat of Eric's car and didn't move. Eric glanced back, saw that his eyes were closed, and frowned. 

"Belt," he said. 

"No." 

"Then I won't start the car." 

"Perfect. Naptime." 

"You just woke up." 

"Fuck you."

Eric sighed and gave up. Whatever. He was better off ignoring the guy. He started the car and got lost in his thoughts. Of course, those thoughts related to the creature laying on the backseat. In particular, he was thinking about what he had read while Dimor was in the shower. He had only gone over the fairy entry. The dragon one... was long. Very, very long. 

"Dimor," he said while he was waiting at a red light. 

"Hm." 

"Can you lie? I read that fairies can't lie." 

"I can't." 

"Say that you hate roasted sardines." 

There was a silence. 

"Very fucking funny," eventually said Dimor. 

Eric snorted. This was fun. A grin spread on his features as he thought about all the interesting questions he could ask him. "Hey, Dimor." 

"What?" 

"Do you like anal sex?" 

"Yes." 

There was another silence. 

"Fuck you!" cried Dimor as he smacked Eric on the back of the head. 

Luckily Eric didn't need to focus on the road because he was still stopped, but it hurt like hell. Eric hissed and held his skull, rubbing the sore spot to ease his pain. 

"Don't hit the driver," he said. 

"Seriously, fuck you," said Dimor as he laid back down again. 

Eric chuckled under his breath as he restarted the car. However, he didn't risk another question until he had thought it through, not wanting to test Dimor's patience again but too curious not to ask. 

"How about the iron thing?" 

"... the iron thing?" 

"Fairies are burned by iron." 

"Oh! No, I don't have that. Some of my siblings do more than I, though, but it's not serious." 

"It's the dragon in you?" 

"Yes." 

Eric didn't ask any more questions after that, too focused on the road to be distracted himself. By the time they pulled in the parking lot near his restaurant, Dimor was sleeping soundly. 

He considered leaving him here but he didn't want to leave the car unlocked. He reached out and shook him gently, like he had done this morning. 

"Urg," muttered the vouivre. "Coming." 

He stood up and got out, to the restaurant. 

Eric's restaurant was a quaint little building between two others, in the middle of the older part of the city. He had bought and remodelled the place when the previous owner, a friend of a friend, had gone into burn-out over it, despite knowing nothing about restoration. It worked all right - better than he had. The concept, at least, attracted a few clients: it was a fast-food, but entirely with products that were produced locally. People enjoyed coming over. 

"Green Dragon Burgers," read Dimor. "Green dragon?" 

"It's a reference to one of my favourite books." 

"You like dragons?"

"I'm not referencing an actual dragon." 

Dimor didn't ask about it. He had found something else to complain about. 

"I hate fast-foods," he told Eric. 

"That's too bad." Eric opened the door to the restaurant and locked it behind him. They weren't open yet.

"It's always so loud and agitated. And fast food? what sort of food that is made quickly can be good? It's like noodles. It's so bland. You are not feeding me anything from your restaurant. I would rather starve." 

"Morning Patricia," said Eric to his waitress. She was already there, preparing the place to be opened. 

"Morning sir," she answered. "How did yesterday go?" 

"All right, I guess." Eric shrugged, not wanting to elaborate. 

"Yesterday was the goddamn luckiest day of your life," said Dimor. "Literally." 

"Ready for today?" asked Eric, ignoring the vouivre. 

"Oh, sure am." She gave him an enthusiastic thumbs-up. 

"Great." He clasped her shoulder. "Is Amina in the back?" 

"Amina is not here today. It's George." 

"Oh, right."

"She was complaining about the fact that she was free today, you know." 

"I know. I would have wanted her to come but we don't have enough patrons to afford two cooks today. She's not too mad?" 

"I don't know, you ask her yourself." 

"I will when I see her. I'm going upstairs if you guys need me." 

"Aye aye captain. 

Despite saying that he was going up, Eric did drop by the kitchen to say hello to George. Dimor didn't make any of his snide comments, for once, but to be frank he looked very drowsy like he wanted to go right back to sleep. Eric was starting to wonder if he really should have taken him along, especially since up to now he had been nothing but a ray of sunshine. 

The moment they were up in Eric's office, Dimor rushed to the heater under the window to touch it, grumbled, and turned it on all the way. 

"It's not that cold," said Eric. 

Dimor produced a grumble that only acknowledged that he heard him and huddled next to the heater. Eric shrugged and went to his desk, starting to prepare himself for the day. He had some accounting to do and he would have to review their stocks for an order. 

Soon, he had forgotten that there was someone else in the room with him as he found himself absorbed by his work. 


	5. The Rush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, okay, ran into a short writer's block for a few days on this story so I went to do something else. Luckily I don't have much to catch up to in NaNoWriMo terms but I'm back in the game.

Dimor was easy to ignore. He was quiet, didn't feel the need for needless chitchat when Eric worked and entertained himself fairly easily. The only thing he had asked all morning was for some paper and a pen, which Eric supplied. The next time the human checked on him, Dimor was on the ground, covering his paper with complex lines and symbols. Eric hoped he wasn't preparing some elaborate magic to curse him with impotency. He seemed like the type that would try. 

Other than that, the morning moved at its own pace. Eric liked working. The only thing that made him happier than working was getting money for it. There were times in his life where he had worked harder than others, like when he had gotten his restaurant and had had to reorient it all the while learning how to manage one on the fly. If there was one person in the world that deserved the sort of boost that Dimor could provide, it was him, or so he thought at least. 

He tried to see if he felt anything different on that day, but he didn't notice anything other than a sale on some meat he needed to restock. He did have a moment where he realized he didn't have anything else to do, so he allowed himself a break. Dimor needed clothes. 

He stared at the creature accross the room. He knew his own size, at least, and Dimor seemed to share it. The only difference between the two of them was how damn long Dimor's legs were. 

Feeling Eric's eyes on him, the vouivre turned around with a frown. 

"Is something the matter?" he spat. 

"Nothing." 

"Are you staring at my ass?" 

"No!" cried Eric. He cleared his throat and lowered his tone. "No, I was looking at how my clothes were fitting you." 

Dimor narrowed his eyes until they were thin green slits. His tail swayed like the one of a cat would. 

"I am buying clothes," finally explained Eric. 

The moment he mentioned that, Dimor's face changed radically, from angry to surprised. He stood up. Inched closer. Was he... looking hopeful? Eric couldn't decide, Dimor was obviously controlling his expression so that he wouldn't show too much. 

"What sort of clothes?" he asked. 

"Just..." Eric waved his hands. "Stuff you can wear." Underwear as well, but he didn't mention that. "I'll get them delivered at home." 

"So, you were going to pick them without asking me?" 

"You did say you like black." 

"I didn't. I said that I'd rather wear all back, that's different. Show me." 

Before Eric could agree, Dimor was turning his computer away from him. Eric tensed. He hated when people did that, but when he tried to get it back he was swatted rather meanly on the hand. 

"That's terrible," said Dimor the moment he saw the shirts that Eric had been looking at. "I hate them all. Back to the main page... Oh my god, why do you shop at their store? Do you actually want me to put you to sleep with how boring those look?" 

"Hey," said Eric. "Those are my favourite." 

"More reasons to hate them. Goodbye." Dimor typed the name of a second site in the search bar, one he knew by heart. 

Eric was surprised to see a sewing and knitting site come up rather than another clothes store. He had just finished processing this information when Dimor started to look at the different variety of cloth. 

"Wait, what are you doing?" asked the human. 

"I would rather make my own clothes. I know how to." 

"Make your own clothes?" Right away, Eric imagined how much space this was going to do take in their flat. He wasn't going to be the one explaining that to Anton. "No way. I don't even have a sewing machine." 

"Don't need. It's not like I have anything else to do anyway." 

"I said no." 

Dimor puffed his cheeks and sighed. "All right. But we aren't getting anything from the other site."

"That's where I get all my clothes. I have a membership with them." 

DImor gave Eric's outfit a look that said everything he thought about it. "I can see that." 

"Cut it out." Eric took his computer back. "Do you know what store you like to order from?" 

Suddenly, Dimor froze, as if he was listening to something. Eric stared at him, unsure as to what to do. The other wasn't suddenly going to do something weird now, was he? 

"What time is it?" asked Dimor. 

Eric paused. "Eleven thirty. Why?" 

"That's when your restaurant opens, right?" 

"Yes." 

"Call the other cook in." 

"What do you mean?" 

Dimor didn't answer. Instead, he stood to his full height and went to gather his drawings on the floor. Eric was about to ask him again what he meant when he heard someone go up the stairs to his office. 

"Sir?" said Patricia as she stepped in. "Do you have a moment?" 

"Is something the matter?" asked Eric. 

"There are a lot of people outside. Like... a lot. More than what we planned for. What do we do?" 

Eric, despite the fact that there was someone else in the room, glanced at Dimor. The vouivre brought his hand to his ear, miming a phone call. 

"I'm calling Amita. Go back down and make sure everything is ready. I'm done with my work, I'll come down to help you." 

She seemed a little reassured by Eric's confidence. "I'll tell George."

"I'll stay here and look for stuff I want to order," said Dimor. He was trying really, really had to appear casual about it but the corners of his mouth were twisting in a way that betrayed the fact that he wanted to grin. 

"All right," said Eric to the vouivre the moment Patricia was gone, "but we are reviewing the order together. And nothing too... extravagant. Officially, those are clothing for me." 

"We'll see if you still think that at the end of today," said Dimor. This time, he wasn't doing anything to hide his glee. 

"What do you meant?" 

"Just go and see it for yourself." 

Dimor dismissed Eric with a wave of the hand and, as much as the latter wanted to keep arguing with him, he had other things to do. He called his second cook, Amita, filled her in on the situation, apologized for the last-minute situation, and asked if she was available. She said she was. He was pretty sure that he was breaking half a dozen working laws by making her come at the last moment, but at long as she was okay with it... 

Then he went down.

He was there just in time for the start of the rush. Apparently, the cafeteria of a nearby university had been shut down due to a hygienic emergency and all of the students had decided to come here based on the testimony of a few popular kids. This was the most unlikely tale he had heard in all of his careers as a restaurant owner but it was what he gathered as he helped Patricia deal with her initial rush. 

The first thing he did was bring out some extra chairs so that more people could sit in their small side room. A lot wanted something to take away but a few prefered one of the dishes they only served on the spot; Patricia took care of those. He tried taking a few orders as well, writing them on a small notepad, but Patricia quickly worked up the courage to tell him that he was bad at it. When he asked what he could do to help, she seemed hesitant to answer. He insisted. She told him that the only thing he could help at was to do the dishes, but it wasn't something the owner was supposed to do.

He did the dishes. 

It was hard, monotone work. Once he had gotten in the swing of it, it was as if he had fallen into a trance. He didn't think of anything, only about the next thing he should do, only the next movement, the next load he had to complete before more was added to it. He spinned around on the ball of his feet and stacked the freshly wiped plates neatly while checking if they were soon going to run out of anything. The noise around him, the endless chatter, drained away with the grim and the bubbles. 

"Sir?" said Patricia, tapping on his shoulder. "I'll take it from here." 

He looked at her, as if surprised to see another human face. "What time is it?" 

"Two o'clock, sir," she said.   
  
He laughed. "No way." 

She pointed at the clock., 

"Oh, okay," said Eric. 

He had not realized how fast time goes by. He was shocked himself, but now that he thought of it he was rather tired. And hungry. And he was sure that some of his muscles in his arms and legs were going to be sore from the exercise. 

"We also ran out of several items," said Patricia. "I've written a list of what I caught but we'll need a full inventory check soon." 

"Right. I'll do that today, but I'm going to have to eat something first." 

George made him a cheeseburger while Amita was taking care of the last few orders. It was oddly quiet in the kitchen, as if everyone was as stunned as he was by what had just happened. Eric asked for an extra fish burger to take upstairs. 

Dimor was smiling smugly when Eric returned, sitting in the chair of his desk with his feet on the table. He knew exactly what had just gone down. 

"So, this is your doing?" asked Eric. 

"Well, if you want to attribute that to me, I guess I have no other choice but to take the praise." He chuckled, delighted. 

Eric was too tired to argue. "Just show me what you ordered." 

Dimor turned the computer his way. Eric gave him the wrapped up fish burger and the creature made a face. 

"What is this?" he asked. His tone was cold, as if Eric had just given him a mudpie. 

"It's fish. Take it." 

"Is it from your _fast food_?" 

Eric sighed. "It's good. I promise."

"I will not touch it. I deserve a proper meal." 

"Suits yourself. Can I have my seat back?"

Dimor got up, stretched, and took his fishburger to his spot on the floor. He had a bunch of more papers now, all of which were covered in detailed abstract drawings. Eric didn't know anything about art but he hated anything that didn't represent a clear picture. What was the point of drawing lines and circles? Anyone could do that. He could do that. Calling it art was just the epitome of pretentious. 

With a sigh, he sat down at his spot and took a look at what Dimor had picked. 

"No," he said at the first article.

Dimor took a bite of the burger before responding. "Are you really sure?" he asked. 

Eric looked at him. Something in the vouivre's tone made it sound like he was about to fail some invisible game they played. He didn't like it. 

"Oh dear you're dense," muttered Dimor. "Five minutes ago you were thanking me for helping you out." 

"I wasn't thanking you, I was asking a simple question." 

"So you haven't thanked me. Dense and ungrateful." 

"What's your point?" 

"All right, I'll explain it to you one more time." Dimor dramatically waved his half-eaten burger as he spoke. Eric had a bit of trouble understanding how he could wolf that thing down and still have nothing in his mouth each time he spoke. "The way you treat me is the way you will be treated. Tenfold." 

There was a silence. 

"So..." prompted Dimor. 

"If I give you clothes, you'll give me money." 

"Luck in business, yes. I don't actually have... never mind. Magic specifics. Probably a bit ambitious to try and explain that to you." 

Eric sighed, scrolled down and pressed the button to confirm the order without looking at the rest. He didn't know how he was going to explain to Anton the radical change in clothing style. That was a problem for another day. 

"You know," said Dimor, "your office could use a couch. A small one. You got space." 

"Don't push your luck." 

"We'll see about that." Dimor rolled the paper of the fishburger into a ball and threw it right in the garbage on his first try. 


	6. Cycles Restarting

Sometimes Eric wondered why he still bothered, really, when it would be easier to just tell everything to his boyfriend and stop pretending. He mentioned it to Dimor one day that they were alone in his office and the vouivre shook his head. 

"Bad idea. Really bad."

"Why so?" 

"Did you know that the person that captured me was a woman?" he said. 

"A woman? All right, but what does it have to do with--" 

"She was a witch, or at least what counted as a witch at that time - she saw beyond the Veil and she worked with that as a consequence. She studied me from far, knew my habits when I was going to bathe and, one day that I was thinking of something else, swooped in and stole my jewel. She thought that she was going to be able to sell it so that she could get a better life for her family. She got a lot more than what she bargained for."

"You are not answering my question." 

"I am! Just giving you the context. You are such a mosquito sometimes, always buzzing around, wanting results right away." 

"All right! Just tell me the story, then." 

"Thank you. When she realized that I was actually bond to her and what were my true powers, she was ecstatic. She went to her husband and told him about how they would never grow hungry again, them and their children. He quitted his job and moved to the city, where he opened a shop that quickly became very popular. A women's clothing shop." 

"Did he like... kill her and take the jewel from her?" asked Eric. Dimor could just take forever when he was getting started on his stories. 

He also hated being interrupted. "Just took the jewel," he spat. And then, as always when he was upset, he laid on his new couch and turned around, pretending to nap. 

Good riddance, thought Eric. 

He tried to go back to work, but his eyes kept being drawn back to Dimor across the room. It took Eric a moment to realize that he was feeling guilty for treating him so callously. He really shouldn't. He didn't want to fall for pouting, of all things. He wouldn't!

"All right," he said five minutes later. "How did it happen?" 

"The story is done, I won't be bothering you with it anymore." 

"Dimor..." Eric sighed and rubbed the back of his head. "All right. I'm sorry I interrupted you. Can you tell me the rest of the story?" 

The creature looked over his shoulder, at Eric, with narrowed eyes. He seemed to weight whether or not Eric was sincere. He must have decided that he was, for he sat back up and turned to him. 

"Well, you got to know that they were two village children. They had married because their parents were friends, not because they had chosen each other. They learned to appreciate one another over time, but you know, it was never... perfect. When they moved away, they lost all their friends, and then the man was always around women... more women that he had ever seen in his life, women that were attracted to him because he had money. He started to see his wife as a hindrance, a strange woman that spoke to things that were not there and that didn't know how to fit in with the people of the city. He had adapted admirably well and she not. But she had the jewel. Why would she have it? He was the one that led the business." 

"So he..." started to say Eric. He stopped. "Sorry. Please continue." 

Dimor nodded. "He sued her for incompatibility of character and filed for a divorce. Then, before she even knew it, he stole the jewel in her sleep and, from there, it only went downhill for her. He got the kids too. And when she sued him for thievery to try and get her jewel back, he was found not guilty. Last I knew of her, she was returning to the village where she was born, humiliated and uncertain of her future."

"Anton would never do that. We don't live in the Dark Age anymore." 

"It was the nineteenth century." 

"Still! They were savages at the time." 

Dimor smiled. "What makes you think that humans are any different today?" 

"Not Anton. He's... he's literally the sweetest man I have ever met. He would never." 

"How long have you know each other?" Dimor swung his ankle over his knee and leaned back against the backrest. 

"Well, we met six months ago..."

"You're still in the honeymoon phase, then. You don't know what he is capable of." 

"Of course I do!" 

"No, you don't. Trust me. He sure doesn't want you to see his bad sides. It's easy to do so when you haven't known each other long." 

"Listen there, snake." Eric was mad. "I'm not a child. I know that there is a very slim chance he would steal anything. The man wouldn't hurt a fly if he could put it outside before that. He's terrified of spiders and wouldn't kill even those! I can trust him." 

"Very slim chance?" 

"Shut up!" 

This time, Dimor didn't seem to care that he was shut down. He just went back to knitting. (Eric had allowed him to do so as long as he only knitted in the office and tidied up after himself.) 

Eric still couldn't focus on his work. He couldn't stop thinking about Anton, how he was going to announce to him that he saw a lizard man without sounding crazy. He didn't want to be sent to the yard - it wasn't good for business. 

"I am going to tell him," he eventually told Dimor. It almost sounded like a question. Almost.

"I still don't think it's a good idea." 

"He can't steal you. I inherited you. My name is in the papers as your new owner."

"Losing a court battle isn't good for business." 

Eric opened his mouth to reply, but then he processed what Dimor had just said. "You mean he could get away with it?" 

"How do you think my second owner got away with it? There were the witnesses. The friends. Everything was against him. And he won." 

"Didn't he win because, well, women weren't credible at the time?" 

"Maybe that's where his luck came from. I wasn't very interested in the whole court battle. They both treated me poorly anyway, like some evil forest spirit that might eat their children if given any leeway. Got to love countryside superstitions." 

Eric wasn't really listening. He had not imagined Dimor's powers under this angle until now and this opened a whole new range of possibilities.

"So..." he said. "You are telling me that this would help me win in court? In any situation?" 

"Well, not every situation. If you would go out and sue someone in the street for no reason, you would probably lose. But it does help to turn the tide in your favour." 

"How about helping me commit a crime?" 

"Oh, absolutely." Dimor laughed. "You have no idea how many of my owners committed tax fraud."

Eric's eyes widened. "Did... Richard do as well?"

"I want to say that he did it a little less than the others but I'm really not that certain. I don't care anyway." 

Eric frowned. He didn't really like the idea that his uncle could be a criminal. He didn't even like thinking that anyone in his family could be. He would never. The law was there so that everyone could be equal. 

"Why did they even want to do that when they had you?" asked Eric. "You can bring more wealth to the table anytime they want."

"That's not the sort of questions I asked. I just know that they all do it, eventually. And sometimes they even brag about it. "Hey Dimor, you'll never guess what I did today." And they tell me. That's how I know." 

Eric thought about it for a while longer. This time, he didn't even pretend to work, he just turned around and stared out the window. 

"I'm still telling Anton." 

"Suits yourself." 

"He won't steal." 

"Maybe not." 

"He won't! He doesn't care for money." 

Dimor hummed in agreement. And yet Eric couldn't stop thinking about it. Anton would never commit a crime unless he thought that it was the right thing to do. In fact, he would be the first to do it if he thought that it was right. Eric knew he would because Anton had told him the story about how he had, as a teen, thrown a rock on a man's car because he was beating his wife.

How would Anton react if Eric told him that Dimor was held with him against his will? 

Eric's eyes widened as he thought about it that way. Anton wouldn't steal a magic jewel that brought wealth to its owner. He would, however, steal the heart of a vouivre and set him free without a second thought. Maybe he would care if Eric told him he wanted to attain his dream... or maybe he wouldn't. Dimor was right, they had only known each other for six months. Would he be willing to take that risk?

No, he wasn't.

But if Anton would set Dimor free, that begged the question as to why Eric didn't. 

Eric looked up at Dimor, knitting on the couch. There was no denying the results over the last week: magic or not, whatever it was, it worked, and it worked well. Eric was looking at results never reached before in all of the time running his restaurants. His employees felt it too. He was even considering hiring someone new. Letting go of Dimor now would be pure suicide for his business. 

He guessed he was just going to have to keep him a while longer. But it was okay. As long as he got him everything he wanted, and made sure that he didn't lack anything, it wasn't really keeping him against his own will. Right? 

Right?

"Oh, by the way, Eric, you had mail yesterday," said Anton. 

It was Saturday and they were both sitting at the table for lunch. It was the end of the meal and Anton had been unusually quiet. 

"Mail?" repeated Eric. He stared at his boyfriend, confused, before he remembered. "Oh, yeah, mail. Yeah, I was expecting that." 

Anton's lips thinned. He seemed hesitant. 

"Is something the matter?" asked Eric. 

"Well, I didn't mean to spy on something I should have looked at, I really shouldn't have," said Anton. "But I've opened it and... I meant to talk to you about it." 

Eric didn't reply right away. He had to repress the urge to look at where Dimor was standing, near the window. He had the nagging suspicion that, if he had, he would catch a knowing smirk on those sweet, soft-looking lips. 

"There were clothes, right?" asked Eric. 

"Yeah, it was to your name. It's nice to see you wear something a bit fancier than your usual grab..." Anton chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, but his heart wasn't in it. "Although I was surprised by how much lace there was." 

"Oh, yeah, lace," said Eric without batting an eye. "I thought it might be nice, for a try." 

"And, uh..." Anton was positively embarrassed now. 

"What is it?" 

"Why... Why did you order skirts?" 

"Skirts," repeated Eric. 

"That's what was written on the package. Did they send that to you by mistake? We can still return them, I haven't taken them out of their wrapping, I promise." 

"It's not a mistake," said Dimor. 

"It's for a friend," said Eric. 

"Who?" 

"Does it matter who?" asked Eric, a little annoyed. Then he considered, and finally answered: "Patricia asked me to order them for her." 

"You know..." Anton reached across the table and touched Eric's hand. "If you want to try crossdressing, I wouldn't be against it. I just want you to be honest about it." 

"I don't want to cross-dress!" Eric swatted his hand away. He hated when Anton was all condescending like that. "I am not... I told you, I'm getting it for Patricia." 

"Your employee?" 

"Yeah, for my employee." She was the first woman he had thought about. He had never seen her in anything but jeans but that didn't matter, Anton didn't know her that well. Did he? "They don't deliver to her complex. Well, they do, but stuff gets stolen." 

"The cloth looked expensive. She paid it with her own money?" 

"What's with the question, all of a sudden? What do I care what she does with her money?" 

Anton raised his hands to pacify him. "Hey, no need to get on your high horses. I was just asking." 

"Why did you open a package at my name?" 

"We live together, remember? I didn't think, I thought it would be fine."

"It's under my name for a reason!" 

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. I was just curious." 

Eric dropped the matter. He didn't want to fight.

"The box is in my office, by the way," said Anton. 

Eric stood up. "I'll call Patricia to tell her I got them."

Anton didn't answer. Dimor followed him as he gathered the package and locked himself in the guest room. He could read Eric's intentions well, he did want to talk to him - unless he was just eager to take a look at his new clothes. 

"Oh, sweet, sweet freedom," he sighed, holding to his chest several packages - the infamous skirts. 

"You didn't tell me you are a crossdresser," attacked Eric. As much as it had become common lately, he hated lying to Anton. 

"I am not." 

"What are those, then?" Eric looked through the cardboard. There was indeed lace - a lot of lace - and silk, and velvet and-- was that a cape? 

"Those are just clothes." 

"Skirts are women's clothes." 

"Not where I come from," bit back the vouivre. 

Eric paused for a moment, taken aback. 

"Also, I grew up with the ability to shapeshift." There was longing in Dimor's voice. "Pants prevented from doing that." 

All right. Eric got it. He'd be an asshole if he disputed that. "I didn't know." 

"You couldn't. But what matters is that I got those now." 

Dimor didn't seem to want to wallow in the past too long. He ripped open a package and displayed the skirt. The cloth was indeed of good quality. There was a spark in his eye as he looked at it carefully. 

"Of course," he said, "it would be better if I had made it myself, but I guess that since that's not possible... We'll have to get a sewing kit though, because I do want to make some arrangements to it." 

Eric thought about it. "All right. We'll do that soon, then. If that makes you feel comfortable." 

"Thank you." Dimor gave him a tight smile, a smile that didn't reach his eyes.


	7. Rally!

Eric loved organizing things in a routine. That's how he was the most efficient and he didn't mind them. In fact, he was quite good at setting them up. So good that even someone like Dimor, that seemed to be the chaotic type - he had so much trouble cleaning up after him that Eric had to do it all the time - agreed to go along with them. Of course, he only did because Eric did most of the work, but that was fine by them. 

Dimor never got up before he was fetched, but at least he didn't need to be shaken anymore: a simple call of his name was enough for this effect. Then he dragged himself to the bathroom - Eric made sure to leave all the doors open on the way there because Dimor still sometimes banged his head on them - and then showered until Eric came to knock on his door, at which point he started to take care of his hair. He never ate in the morning. Instead, Eric lured him to the care with the promise of a hot water bottle, that he grabbed on with a happy cry. 

Sometimes, Dimor was almost adorable, thought Eric. 

Though he still needed some time to grow used to the clothes he wore. Eric was persuaded that he had shopped in the women's section of whatever site he had been on. He insisted that it had taken a while to find clothes that felt homely enough for them to pick. And for all his protestations and counter-arguments, Eric had to admit that he would look lovely is he was an elf from his favourite movie. But he wasn't. He would need some more time to grow used to the skirts. 

Leaving the heater on at his office was sure to cost quite a bit at the end of the month but it was worth it. The mind of Dimor in the morning was single-tracked at gathering as much heat as possible. Once he had attained it, he was fine - he swore less and got started on whatever he had in mind for the day. 

"It's a dragon thing," he explained once. "They lower their body temperature when they sleep - but they can heat up a lot faster than I can since they have fire magic." 

"So you got the disadvantages without the perks?" asked Eric. 

"Some would say yes. I see it as an opportunity. You don't feel cold, just numb, but the moment you find something warm..." He closed his eyes, recalling with a smile. "That's a positively _delightful_ sensation." 

Eric made mental notes to buy Dimor a bunch of scarves and gloves before winter. 

Dimor had an incredibly wide variety of hobbies, it seemed. From drawing to crochet, he obviously loved using his hands. Eric knew that, every few days, Dimor would make an enquiry about some material he wanted to acquire. Some Eric had refused, on account of a lack of space, but when he couldn't use that excuse they both went shopping over their late lunch break, at two o'clock. Dimor never settled for anything cheap but Eric had watched him taste wool before confirming that it was indeed llama wool. Since then, he had never doubted Dimor's eye for quality. 

"Do you have heightened senses?" Eric asked once. 

"Oh, yes. Smell and touch in particular." 

"Touch?" 

"Vibration. I can feel your heartbeat when I touch your skin. And I know where you are in your flat from your feet hitting the ground." 

"How about your eyes?"

"My eyes are fine, thank you," said Dimor a little more snarkily than what he should have. 

"You squint at things that are far away sometimes." 

"I _don't_ need _glasses_," he spat. 

Eric dropped the conversation. It was obvious that he had had it many times already, probably with his previous owners. 

What did Dimor eat? Sometimes Amita laughed at mocked Eric for his newfound obsession with fishburgers. Eric himself wasn't quite sure that it was the healthiest diet but, well, Dimor looked as fantastic as he always did, so he wasn't going to bother. Who was he to know the dietarian needs of a snake? AlphaVeil had been particularly poor in information on this regard anyway, due to the rareness of the creature itself. 

"..._The authors of this site have never met a vouivre, or met anyone that had known one, and rely heavily on word-of-mouth for this article. They are particularly high members of the fairy society due to their birth, and hence not easily approached - and, even if they were, they are fiercely protected by their friends, due to the very useful nature of their hearts._" That was what was written on it, verbatim. Sometimes Eric wondered just how high Dimor ranked among fairies. Was he some sort of nobility in his world? Did fairies even have such a concept?

He wanted to dig more into Dimor's world, what information the internet and some books on the subject divulged about him, but there was a problem. Each time he started to read about it, he'd feel wonder, of course, but then the guilt began when he thought about how he was preventing Dimor from enjoying all of that. He kept telling himself that it was fine as long as he made sure that Dimor didn't find himself lacking in the area of necessities, which he wasn't. Besides, Dimor looked happy enough. He had all the time in the world to do anything he wanted. 

This was also the reason why he never asked Dimor about his past. 

For the most part, the days passed by with little to no incident, except the rare times where they fought for petty reasons. It was inevitable. They were never quite far from one another. Eric found that he didn't mind most of the time.

The last major event of the day was helping Dimor clean up Eric's office, which was easier said than done. It was as if he never had enough space. Bits of cloth and wool flew over on the ground, sometimes to quite remote places of the room. Eric made sure to go around and pick up every single one of them properly. He then ordered it all nicely in a drawer he had emptied, although he would soon need to expand. 

But on that night, when they came home, Anton was sitting at the kitchen table, looking grave. 

"Hey Anton..." Eric paused at the door. "Is something the matter?" 

"Sit down, please. We need to talk." 

He had never used a tone like that with him but Eric supposed that he sounded like that when he had bad news to give his clients about a taste. His heart picked up, dreading the worse. 

The worse made itself fashionably later as Anton sighed and leaned back against his chair. Eric didn't dare more. He already knew that he wasn't going to like what came next. 

"All right," said Anton. "What's his name?" 

There was the sound of Dimor's footsteps as he tried to walk away as quietly as he could. 

"Who's name?" asked Eric. 

"The man. The other one." 

"The other what?" 

"Please. Eric." Anton rubbed his face with both hands. "Don't make me do this." 

"I don't know what you are talking about." 

Anton slammed his fist on the table, making Eric jump. 

"Do you think I am a fucking idiot?" he screamed. 

Silence. Anton rubbed his face again. 

"Sorry. Sorry," he said. "Just... this is a lot to take in." 

"I can't help you if you can't tell me what's wrong," said Eric, a little more bitterly than what he intended it to be. 

"Yeah. Right. Sorry. We'll start at the top. The calls you've been having. You haven't been calling any of the people you claimed to have called." 

"What? You asked them behind my back?" 

"Because... because you were weird! And you didn't seem to want to talk about it-- but I'm not finished. What about the clothes?" 

"What clothes?"

"The one you are keeping in the guest room." 

"I told you--" 

"They are _not for Patricia_, Eric!" 

Silence.

"I asked her about them. She said no." 

"Why did you go to Patricia--" 

"Did he come here?" 

"No! There isn't anyone--" 

"Did he come here, _Eric_? Did he come-- in our home? Is he using the extra towel in the bathroom?" 

Eric didn't know what to say to that. 

"Answer me!" 

"I don't know!" 

"What, you don't know? Don't know what? Did he come, yes or no?" 

"I don't know what to say!" 

Silence. 

"Listen," said Anton. "Just, get out. Please. Get out of my house." 

"Anton, please, it's not what you think." 

"Then what is it, Eric? Was it in the guest room?" 

"No!"

"The couch?" 

"No! I didn't do anything, I swear! It's not like that!" 

"_Get out_!"

Anton stood up to his full height, and Eric got scared. It tore him but he knew that he was right, it was just that Anton was not in the mood to listen to anything at the moment. He'd explain it all later. Tomorrow. This was a mess but he could fix it, he was sure of it. 

He stood up and left quietly, without a word. He went to their room. Prepared a bag for the night. 

"Take the clothes or I'll burn them," said Anton. 

It was all temporary. He went to get a bigger bag then passed through the guest room. Dimor was smart enough not to say anything. Eric would have tossed his stupid heart out the window if he had. If he didn't exist... 

No. Blaming others was already admitting half of his defeat. Once again, he told himself that he'll be back later. And again. And he told himself when he walked out that door, and in the car, but that last time was one time too much. He cracked and started crying. 

Rally! 

The sign, grotesquely orange, floated in the dark over the low-crouching entrance. The air smelled of rain and cigarettes. Eric regretted crying. It had been stupid, and now his eyes were probably red and puffy. He had just not expected Anton of all people... 

Nevermind. He probably felt that kicking him out was the right thing to do, and Eric could use that time to think about what he wanted to tell him, exactly. More like how he was going to tell him, because there was no way he could keep it a secret now. Talk about privacy... Eric was a little miffed that Anton had gone through his stuff instead of talking to him when he had a suspicion, but he would be an asshole if he brought that up.

"Welcome to Rally hotels sir, what can I help you with tonight?" said the girl from the reception desk. 

"I'd like a room for two," he muttered. 

"Pardon?" 

"A room for two." 

"Ah, all right sir." She gave him a look that Eric was too tired to decipher. "Will it be--" 

"Just, give me a room. The first room you got." 

"But I have to--" 

"I just need a room!" Eric slapped the counter as he screamed. Then he cringed at his own reaction. "Sorry. Bad day." 

"Happens," she said, in a voice that could barely count as professional. "A room for two. Right."

"For a night." 

"Of course. I'll have your ID, please. You'll pay by card?" 

"Yeah." 

At least one perk of having Dimor around is that he didn't have to worry about if he had enough. Paying half the rent of Anton's fancy flat used to suck up quite a bit of resource. Not anymore, with how successful his restaurant had become. How ironic was that?

"Sir?" she asked. 

Eric realized he had been chuckling to himself. "It's nothing, sorry." 

"Bad day." 

"Yeah. Happens." 

"Hah, Lol. I mean, that's funny." 

Eric forced a smile. 

Dimor, that was standing behind him the entire time, gently bounced on the ball of his feet as Eric paid and signed a caution in case any damage was done. Not that they were planning on going wild in that room anyway. Eric started chuckling again. 

"Have a good night then, sir," she said. 

"Thanks." 


	8. A Blessing and A Curse

Eric opened the door to his room, let Dimor in first, then quickly moved inside. The vouivre seemed mostly unaffected by the entire situation, even if the first thing he did was look under furniture for pests.

"It's a hotel, Dimor, they have standards."

"You wouldn't believe the shit I saw in my time," answered Dimor was he crawled along the floor. He kept poking his tongue out like a snake trying to smell something in the air.

Eric, too tired at this point to protest, watched him do. He needed some time to let the whole situation sink in. He was out of his flat, in a hotel room, with an invisible magic man after his boyfriend kicked him out over said invisible man. When had his life become so weird? He sat on one of the beds.

"You're lucky she didn't just give you a room with a double bed," said Dimor as he was standing back up.

"What do you mean?"

"You screamed at her when she tried to ask. If she would have, I would have hauled your ass back at the reception because there's no way I am sleeping in the same bed as you."

"It's just... we can keep each one to our side like adults, you know."

Dimor just squinted at him.

"Please," said Eric. "I wouldn't if you didn't want. Or if you did. I got Anton."

"Are you sure you got Anton, though?

"Of course I do! I just need to tell him everything tomorrow, and it will be all good. I know you cautioned me against it, but I would rather take the risk over losing him."

Dimor didn't answer. He just sat on his bed, opposite of Eric, and stared at him.

"There is something I am not thinking about," said Eric.

"I've waited for you to realize that, yeah. Either they do, or they don't after two weeks, and I got to explain it to them because they are blind... my owners, that is."

"Please just spit it out."

Hesitation appeared on Dimor's face. This was the first time ever that Eric saw him with such an expression. He looked almost... scared?

"You have to promise that you won't get mad," said Dimor. "Because it's not, in any way, my fault."

"What is it? What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!"

Eric stared at him for a while, his first balled so tight his nails bit into his flesh. And then he forced himself to relax. "Fine. All right. It's not your fault. Just..."

"Your separation with Anton was inevitable."

"What?"

"And it's not because there was anything wrong with you two... it's because now you are just going to have bad luck in love."

"_What_?" Eric stood up from the bed, unable to keep sitting. "And you are telling me that only now?"

"Actually, I've been telling you that since the start. But you didn't think of it in that way."

"How did I not... No, don't say anything. Let me figure that out on my own. It is because my... luck in business is draining my luck in love? Is that what your magic is doing to me?"

"No. It's simpler than that."

For what the situation was about, Eric's mind was strangely clear. Dimor had only told him one rule about the conditions of using his heart, and it was that Eric would receive what he had been giving Dimor. If Eric was having bad luck in love, it couldn't be because Dimor had bad luck in love. He couldn't just give him a girlfriend... boyfriend? What did Dimor like anyway? He didn't even know.

That's when it struck him. Dimor didn't even have a chance at love. In fact, he didn't even have a chance at friends. All he had was Eric to talk to, and Eric... Eric was the one preventing him from leaving. Well, not actively, he was just... keeping what was his. What he had inherited.

"Figured it out?" asked Dimor.

"Let me just get this straight... the reason why Anton is all riled up now is that you don't have anyone but me to talk to, right?"

"Yeah."

"So I need to find you a lover? Is there like... some sort of dating app that I can use or something... like a dating agency? I think this is what people used before? Your type looks old-fashioned. You'd use dating agencies."

"No."

"What do you mean, no?"

"You can't just..." Dimor breathed in deeply to calm himself. "You can't just find me someone that I'll like, Eric. Even if you could see anyone other than me, what are you going to say? "Oh, hello, would you mind dating my pet vouivre, he's sad when he has no one." And they are going to say yes? Please. Even you know that's not how that works."

"Of course I do, but what else am I supposed to do? Look, we started off on the wrong foot but I want you to be happy. Just... tell me what to do. I'll do it. I promise."

"You're sort of running out of time for that."

"If you would have told me earlier--"

"I told you already!"

"You _didn't_ and you damn well know it!"

Dimor glared at him, his fists balled tight on the sheets of his bed.

"Gosh," said Eric. He rubbed his face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scream at you. I broke my promise."

"Hmpf."

"There is really nothing that I can do?"

"Other than dating me yourself? Nothing. Don't you think that everyone asked me about it already? You're not the first one that has to go through this exact situation, you know."

"No one... But my uncle, Richard..."

"Had two loveless marriages with wives that didn't like him in the first place. He knew it all along. He was just tired of being alone."

Eric was quiet after that, pondering. He thought of Anton. He thought of telling him. Even if he let him in on the secret, their couple was doomed. It was doomed as surely as customers were drawn to his restaurant now. There was no stopping the heart's magic.

But if he shared Dimor with Anton... no, then they would both be unlucky in love and that wouldn't go right. On top of that, Anton's first act would be to take Dimor away; that had already been established. So basically, he was scaling Anton against Dimor.

Except that Dimor wasn't just some old dumb snake. Dimor brought with him everything Eric had ever dreamed of. What would little Eric say if he saw him now, hesitating to seize the opportunity? He had always known that there would be tough choices on the way. Could he do this to himself when he had come this far?

Of course not.

Did it hurt him just thinking about it? Of course it did. He thought of Anton and his stupid dimples when he smiled. His chest tightened. He couldn't let go of him. He really couldn't.

But he could, urged him another voice, a snide one. He absolutely could. He was choosing between someone else and himself here, as simple as that. And, in this world, there was just one person that mattered: yourself. It didn't make him a bad person. He still loved Anton. He was just a modern man, living in a cruel world. Right?

Right. It was known. 

"I need to use the bathroom," said Eric. He stood up quickly and locked himself in it, before Dimor could say anything.

He leaned over the sink and washed hands, not knowing what else to do. Then he washed his face, and still his mind clear. Then, having used his last resort, he leaned against a wall, a cold, cold wall, and felt tears overflow his eyes once more. He didn't want Dimor to hear him cry again. He pulled one of the white, fluffy towels from the hook and muffled his sobs with it.

There was a knock at the door. Eric emerged, wondering how long it had been.

"Hey, you're not slitting your wrists in there, are you?" asked Dimor. His voice was oddly cold, disinterested even, but he had asked.

Eric snorted despite himself. The very idea that he would attempt suicide over some lost lover was ridiculous. Even if it was the loss of all of his lovers, for the rest of his life. If what the vouivre had said was true - and he couldn't lie - then he was doomed to never find love again.

But he would be rich.

He stood up from the corner where he had been slumped and stretched, making some joints pop. Enough mopping around, he decided.

"Eric, I need to use the toilet, quit it already," said Dimor. He sounded mildly annoyed now.

"Coming out."

He opened the door and came face to face with Dimor, yet the creature didn't move. He just stared at his face, as if trying to read it. Eric stared back. Dimor's beauty had not faltered one bit in his eyes since he had met him. How long had it been? Three weeks? A month?

"You're not the first to have gone through this," said Dimor all of a sudden.

"I suppose so." A thought occurred to him. "And you? When you became... trapped here. Did you have a heartbreak?"

"I just missed my friends," said Dimor. "Get out of the way."

Eric stepped aside and Dimor slammed the door behind him. Eric knew that he was angry, he just didn't know about what.

He sat down on his bed and started unpacking. There was an odd sense of calm after he had let all his emotions out. He was tired, yes, but at least this tiredness was a peaceful one. He started to think about his situation positively, looking for advantages. The first thing that came to mind is that becoming single was quite a radical change; maybe a change that could mark the start of a new life. And he was most certainly starting a new life now.

When Dimor came back, Eric turned to him with a smile. "Get ready to go out."

Dimor narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously but didn't ask any question. He went to the bag and dug through it, finding one of his hair bands to put his hair back.

"You're not asking where we are going?" asked Eric.

"No. I'm not interested."

"We're going to get some sushi takeaway."

Dimor stood straight, staring at him with round eyes. "Sushi?"

"Yep. Unless you don't like raw fish? We can drop by Green Dragon, they are open in the even--"

"I don't mind! We can totally go for sushi!"

Eric laughed. This man sure loved fish a lot.


	9. Sushi and Chill

Eric didn't know that you could order a literal bowl of fish (and rice) from the menu, but Dimor had found it under two seconds, as if he had sniffed it out on the paper. But then, when he looked at the rest, he found some fried salmon sticks and he seemed conflicted... and then he discovered a third, a fourth and a fifth item to try. He kept asking Eric to shift between the pages and staring at the pictures, undecided. 

Eric didn't lend a hand and just smiled. They had all the time in the world after all, now that they had no one to go home to for tonight. The more time passed, the more the weight on Eric's chest felt lighter. It was to the point where he wondered if he had ever truly loved Anton. 

If he had not, then Anton deserved better than him. 

He didn't want to think about it anyway. Right now, he only wanted to focus on the here and the now, and that was... going out with Dimor, apparently. If Anton was truly out of the picture forever, that meant that they were free to do this more often. Of course, he didn't say that. He didn't want Dimor to guess that they were going to come back here because watching him frett nervously was too entertaining. And maybe a little cruel. 

"Can I take like, three things?" asked Dimor. 

"Raw fish go bad quickly," muttered Eric, just loud enough for Dimor to hear. 

The latter produced a high pitched sound that was the audio manifestation of anguish.

"I need a coin," Dimor said. 

"Back pocket." 

Dimor pulled out Eric's purse, picked out a coin, tossed it several times, then seemed to have arrived at some sort of conclusion. Finally, one might add. 

"The salmon sticks," he said. "Wait, no. The bowl is better. But we are a sushi place, shouldn't I take some sushi?" 

"I can take the two first things." As long as he didn't say anything too weird, it was fine for Eric to talk to himself. 

"Really? Oh, let's do that then." 

Eric nodded and folded the menu before walking in the line to order. Dimor wandered off, looking at the japan themed decoration all around the restaurant. He seemed very interested in a geisha doll's kimono. Eric could sort of see him in it. The red of it was very similar to the colour of Dimor's scales. 

When they finally got their food, after a long wait (not that either of them minded) they headed back to the hotel. Eating in public was out of the question, even if making Dimor wait for his food was harder than what Eric expected. The vouivre kept trying to reach for the bag on the front seat as Eric was driving. He at the salmon sticks before they reached Rally. 

Eric had ordered a tray of makis. They placed it on the table of their room and dug in. 

"Tell me," suddenly said Dimor. "Why do you want to be rich?" 

Eric looked up from his plastic tray, taken aback by the question. He thought about it. 

"I don't know," he said. "Is there a problem with it? It's just something I want, like some people want to be famous or want to write a book everyone will read. I like money. I want to work towards it." 

"Ah." Dimor picked at the fish with his chopsticks. His appetite seemed to have diminished but he seemed determined to finish the raw tuna. "I mean, from what I heard, you never had trouble growing up when you had money. That might explain it. I just think it's weird that you are... so obsessed."

"I'm not obsessed." 

"I've seen you work. You are already planning to expand the restaurant, aren't you? And you are looking into a delivery service. And a second location. You talk all the time about making it a chain."

"Isn't that what everyone wants when they have a restaurant that works well?" 

"No. Some are just happy with what they have. Just what exactly do you plan to do when you are rich?" 

"Get everything I always wanted, of course! Like... a house in the south, and a jacuzzi. Maybe a private jet? I always hated aeroplanes. But at least I'll fly in first-class every time I can. I'll never worry about anything." 

Dimor had stopped eating to listen, encouraging Eric. 

"When I was small, we lived well but, you know, not comfortably. My father worked as a construction worker and my mother stayed at home to take care of me and my sisters, so we always had... enough, but not too much. My mother's side is the rich side of the family, you know, so she grew up with a very different life. She'd tell us about those amazing vacations and places we couldn't go to, and those gorgeous toys she used to play with. She loved her life, of course, she always said that family was more important than money and that she wouldn't trade my father for the world... but it gave me a bit of a taste." 

"What happened to your father?" asked Dimor. 

Eric grew silent. 

"He's... dead now, is he?" asked Dimor. He was aware that he was threating on eggshells with this subject, his tone was cautious. "I heard Richard comment about it once. I don't think he went to the burial." 

"He killed himself." Eric tightened his fists.

"I'm sorry." 

"But he was already dying inside before. I don't say what he did was right but--" Eric breathed in deeply. There was no point getting emotional over something that had happened such a long time ago, and yet-- "After his accident, I mean. He couldn't work. He always worked so hard and now he couldn't work anymore, so my mother had to do it." 

Dimor didn't intervene. He just kept nodding his head quietly to show that he was listening, still. 

"And, you know, you got to understand: mom working is like... a good modern thing. Empowering. But she wasn't a very modern woman. Perfect love was at home, taking care of the children of the man she married. He told her that he was working hard and that he just wanted his kids to grow up feeling watched over at every single moment... until the accident. And then all he had was staying at home and watch the woman he loved struggle to work in a supermarket. The long hours. The petty colleagues that were pitched against each other by the direction. The way the clients looked down at her - the client is always right, never forget, they said. And my father was a burden. He saw himself that way, even if we all loved him."

"Why didn't you ask for help? Your grandparents are well off." 

"How could we repay them? It's not like... a single time. It was every day. Every birthday and every Christmas. And mom always said money wasn't that important as long as we had each other. And we just... we accepted that. But we knew it was important. Dad... dad could have gone to therapy but we couldn't afford it. He was depressed. He drank. He never beat us or said one mean thing to us, we loved him very much. And just... seeing him drift away a little every day killed us, too." 

There was a silence. Eric had his head held up by his two balled fists, looking at his food without seeing it. He was reliving what he had gone through all those years ago, those things he didn't like to think about. Maybe he would need therapy himself. He drew in a shaky breath. 

"I see," said Dimor. 

"But that doesn't have anything to do with what I want today," said Eric. He breathed slowly, calming himself, steering his thoughts away. "I just want everything I can have. I don't care if people call me selfish." 

He looked straight at Dimor. The vouivre's face was unreadable, his green eyes firmly planted in Eric's brown ones. The moment felt intimate in a way Eric had not felt before, deep but platonic. Dimor understood. He knew.

"And, just to let you know," said Eric. "I'm grateful that you are here now. I really am. I don't care if that sounds like an asshole thing to say to you, considering that... well, you know, I have your heart and you don't have a choice. But even if you weren't, I'd work just as hard as I do now because that's all I want." 

"And Anton?" 

"Anton..." There was a pang of pain through Eric's chest. It wasn't as sharp as he expected. "Money won't throw you out of your own house. We're not looking for the same thing in life. I always knew..." He stopped himself. Considered what he was about to say. Yet it made sense. "I always knew that we would part, eventually. He's still discovering himself." 

"That's quite lucid of you." 

"He'll find someone else. Someone less selfish than I. Maybe someone that really believes that family is more important than money, who knows."

Dimor didn't answer that. He finished what he could eat - the fish, leaving the rice almost untouched - and they threw the rest in the garbage. Dimor got his hands on the remote and found a show about a baking competition, that he watched with great interest. Eric turned on his phone and stared at his last chat message with Anton. 

Urg. He didn't want to do this. He turned to mindlessly browsing a social media they didn't share, knowing that he wouldn't be forced to think about Anton out of the blue if he came across a post of his. That still didn't occupy his mind enough, so he turned his computer on and started to look into cars he might buy for the restaurant. He really wanted to see if he could start a delivery service. And there was this event catering contract he had been throwing around for a while as well. He opened a mindmap and started to throw around ideas on the page, thinking about the organisation. 

Dimor laid on the ground, looking away from the screen, so that he could take a glance at what Eric was doing. 

"Working again?" he asked. 

Eric looked back at the creature. His untied hair spilt on the floor and the smooth length of his neck was arched and inviting. He always looked beautiful, but there was a sensuality to him at that moment he couldn't be aware of. It struck Eric shocked, so much so that he found himself unable to answer for a moment. 

"Yeah," he said eventually. "I am." 

"Don't become a workaholic," said Dimor, before he turned back to the screen. 

He added something under his breath, but that was probably addressed to one of the candidates on the screen. The man, a blue-eyed guy with back curly hair, had presented himself at the start of the show as someone that had gotten more serious about his baking to impressed his beloved. He was rather good. If Eric ever wanted to open a bakery, he'd want cakes like the ones he was creating in his display. 

But Eric had other things on his mind than work. He couldn't stop thinking about how handsome DImor was. He had noticed since the first day but had always told himself to avoid thinking about it when he was in a couple. If he was mad at Anton, Dimor would be the type of guy he'd go for to be petty - to show him that he could do better. If only there was some way of knowing what Dimor was interested in without outright asking him... 

Oh, but who was he kidding? Dimor might be a bit more friendly than what he used to, but their relationship would be... _wrong_. Eric was fine with owning a lucky charm and taking care of the former owner, not with owning... what? Some sort of sex slave? And what would they do if they broke up? If they weren't compatible? They were stuck together until... well, until Eric attained his dream. He'd free him then.

Until then, no touching the sexy snake. 


	10. Two Coffees and a Breakup

All right, Eric had never been very good at breakups. Since his first one in high school to this day, he was a man that didn't like taking the blame even when he was the one at fault. Not in relationships, at least.

That's why he didn't text Anton the next day. At all.

He did think about it. He brought up their chat several times to stare at it. He just didn't know what to say. Every single conversation starter seemed stupid. Sometimes, he wished he could just call his mother to ask for advice, as his sisters did, but she was... weird about him liking men. She tolerated it. Said that it was fine by her. She loved him. But her eyes asked so many questions she didn't dare voice, and she was obviously scared of him now. He wasn't even out to the rest of the family on her side - and he certainly had not been out to his great-uncle Richard. They all came from a traditional background.

Instead, advice came from somewhere unexpected.

"No news from Anton?" asked Dimor that night.

They had gone back to the sushi place. Their plastic dishes laid empty between them. When Dimor had not suspected that Eric had been watching, he had smiled as he had eaten his new favourite food - something even above roasted sardines: raw tuna.

"No. He hasn't sent me a thing all day," said Eric.

"And... you are expecting him to talk to you?"

"I don't know what to say."

Very slowly, Dimor placed his face in his palm.

"Hey, it's not easy!" said Eric.

"Do you want to get back with him, or do you want to stop?"

Eric didn't answer the questions right away. "I want to stop."

"So why don't you tell him that?"

Eric grabbed his phone. Dimor made a strangled sound and swatted it out of his hand, making it drop on the flood.

"The fuck!" cried Eric. He picked it up. Thank god for comfy hotel room carpets, the screen wasn't cracked. "What the hell, Dimor?"

"You can't just... text him that, idiot!"

"Then what do I tell him?"

"That you need to talk! Face to face. Gosh, the man loves you, Eric. He's probably been in shambles. Not like you, that's been suppressing everything like some eighteenth-century lesbian."

"I don't... repress stuff!"

"You're been fake smiling all day."

"I have not!"

Dimor sighed and faceplanted on the table. That was a bit overdramatic so Eric rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue at him when he wasn't looking. Childish? Maybe, but it did make him feel better.

"Why do they all break up the same way in this fucking family," muttered Dimor. "Why the fuck. Is it in the genes?"

"Wait, what?"

"Just go." Dimor straightened and ignored his question. "And tell him whatever. Confess you've been cheating. Invite him for breakfast tomorrow and be done with it. Please."

"I don't want to."

"Well, you're going to have to at some point. Anton knows where you work. Do you want your employees to know you've had troubles with your couple when he'll show up because you've been ignoring his messages?"

No... that didn't really sound ideal. He wasn't even sure that he had told the people that worked for him that he was gay - that was none of their business. And he certainly didn't want them to know that he had cheated. Because he had not. And because cheaters were bad people. He was just using that as an excuse to end his couple.

Anton's heart was going to be torn.

It was Eric's torn faceplant. He didn't' want to see Anton crying. The guy didn't deserve it and telling himself that he'd get over it and find someone else to be happy with didn't lessen his guilt. But it had to be done, really. This was his new life starting.

"Text him now," said Dimor. "Just do it."

Eric pulled up his phone and stared at the screen until Dimor started tapping his nails on the table impatiently. Taking a big breath, telling himself that it was like ripping off a band-aid, he typed a quick message and sent it without proofreading it.

'We need to talk tomorrow. Let's have breakfast at Maisy's.'

"Lemme see," said Dimor.

"It's private."

Eric didn't resist when Dimor took it from his hands. The vouivre sighed when he saw it.

"I guess that's the best you can do. What are you going to tell him?"

"I guess I don't have a choice at this point."

"I mean, you do, technically speaking, you know." Dimor looked a little concerned.

"Yeah. You're right. But it's the best choice."

Dimor didn't ask what said best choice was. They both knew.

"Hey," said Anton as he sat opposite of Eric.

"Hey."

They had picked a booth in the back, where no one had a direct view on them. Dimor was there too. He had already eaten his won breakfast before coming at Rally's early morning buffet and seemed to be fine with sitting down quietly next to Eric.

"What do you want to eat?" asked Anton. "I know that they have a breakfast special that you might like."

He was taking care of Eric again. It was painful to fall back this easily into old habits.

"I'm not very hungry," said Eric. "I'll just be taking a coffee."

"Yeah. Me too."

Anton folded the menu. Then picked it up. Looked through it. Put it down. Started playing with the cover.

"So, what do you wanted to say?" he asked.

Eric breathed in deeply. Here it came. The moment he had been dreading all this time. He really wanted to be somewhere else at the moment, there was no denying it, but he also really needed to get this done with.

"Can we order first?" he asked.

Dimor sighed. Eric gave him a small kick under the table.

"Hey," said the vouivre. "It's already uncomfortable enough just sitting here looking at you two and I don't have any hot water bottle to help."

They had left that, among other things, at Anton's place. Eric had not bought a second one, thinking that he'll get it eventually... although maybe getting Dimor multiple hot water bottles was a good idea. He really loved them a lot.

The waitress came to take their order. She seemed to feel the tension at the table, for she did it as fast as possible. Or maybe she was anticipating the morning rush, that was bound to happen any moment now.

"Are we going to talk now?" asked Anton.

"Tell him," said Dimor in a warning voice.

"I wanted to tell you that I am sorry," said Eric. "And also, that I don't think we can get back together."

Anton didn't answer. He looked out the window, to the street, then at the sky. He seemed like he was trying his hardest not to let tears come out. Eric hoped he wouldn't. This was hard enough already, if Anton started crying... That's why he didn't want this to finish in a face-to-face. It was just easier to do it over the phone.

"How can you say something like that?" said Anton. "In this tone?"

"Because you deserve better."

"But I don't want better." He took his hand. "Eric. I want you. I know that we need to work this through but I know that if you really love me--"

"I cheated on you without so much a second thought, Anton." The more he repeated that lie, the easier it was for him to say it. "You're a very handsome man. And I like you. But I don't love you." Was the last sentence a lie? He didn't know, but he didn't flinch as he said it.

"How can you be so calm?"

"I'm sorry. I just... I don't want you to suffer any more than you do."

"Then why make me come all the way here to talk if you think that nothing can be done?"

"Because I didn't want it to be done over the phone." Even if it was Dimor that had insisted that he do it that way. "It didn't seem... fair to you."

Anton stood up.

"There are many things I want to tell you right now," he said in a stern voice, "but that would only be unnecessary drama. I just want to know his name."

"Dominique," whispered Dimor.

"Dom. It's short for Dominique," said Eric.

Anton just nodded, then turned away to leave. Eric's heart tightened in his chest.

"He'll be all right," said Dimor.

"I couldn't even be honest with him."

"Cold feet?"

"No. I made my bed, time to sleep in it. Besides, it's for the best."

Dimor stood up and sat on Anton's spot.

"Next step," he said, "is looking for a flat with a bathtub and where I can have my own room."

"Right," said Eric.

Neither said a thing as they watched the waitress approach their table. On her tray were two smoking coffees with their sugar and cookie. When she approached the table, she looked over Dimor, not seeing him and confused.

"He left," explained Eric. "He had an emergency."

"Lies keep coming to you today," said Dimor. "Soon you'll be a natural."

"Do I take the other coffee back?" she asked.

"No, actually, please leave it here. I'll also be taking... two croissants. If you have those."

"Yes, right away sir." She laid the cups on the table, seemingly not questioning the logic - she must have seen everything there was to see by now - and walked away.

Eric waited for her to be out of earshot to talk to Dimor again.

"How... Do you deal with the fact that humans lie and you can't?"

Dimor sent him a surprised look, as if he has said something strange.

"What?" asked Eric, defensive.

"You don't usually ask about me or what I think," said Dimor.

"I'm not that much of a dick, you know."

Dimor produced a grunt that could mean anything as a response, before shrugging. He looked out the window.

"So?" asked Eric.

"I'm thinking. That's the first time anyone asks me this question." He sipped his coffee. "I remember it being pretty frustrating at the beginning for me. I grew used to having people being truthful to me their entire life. For a moment, I thought that it was best to just assume that all humans lie all the time."

"How about now?"

"Now? Well, now I know it's more nuanced than that, of course. And it has its use. I'm just glad I am not the one that's being asked to lie."

At that moment, the waitress came back with their croissants. Eric paid her then and they waited for her to walk away to resume their conversation.

"What happens when you try to say a lie?" asked Eric.

"My throat ties up. I think it's the way Fairies are tied to magic that makes us do that, we use words to control it. If we would be capable of lying, we wouldn't be capable of magic."

"Interesting... Can humans produce magic?"

"On their own? Not that I know of. They can gather magic or they can use the magic of a familiar though. That's how witches get it done, I think."

"Wait. You are telling me that witches exist?"

"Of course they do, the woman that caught me was one. Didn't I mention that?"

"Do they still do... today?"

"Yes. Who do you think is behind internet sites like the one you've been reading - AlphaVeil, was it? Although anyone could learn to see beyond the Veil with a lot of practice and dedication, there are some that are just born with it."

"Oh, but don't we just... give them medicine?"

"Usually, that's what they try. They would love to force all the witches to be medicated, that would really arrange their plans. Sadly... that's not to be."

"Who are 'they'?"

"The ones that don't want to be found out, of course."

"That's pretty omnious."

"What do you want from me, names? I don't know." Dimor downed his coffee. "I just know that they are around. It's obvious, you know, from the whole 'supernatural creatures don't exist' idea that's just everywhere. However, they stay far from me. They know that they can't fight the luck of my owner so they don't even try."

Eric was a little deceived that he might never know more. He was curious about those mysterious creatures and more inclined to believe in them after having lived with Dimor for a while. He wondered what sort of powers they might have.

"Can they use magic?"

"Oh, yeah, although differently. Most of them are shapeshifters and can pass the Veil so that they can meet ordinary humans - and dupe them, of course. Their magic is more intuitive than fairy magic - but they can't make cool stuff like we do. So, yes, they can lie, and they lie even more than humans usually do."

"I wonder what sort of creature they are."

"Oh, trust me, you don't want to meet them. At all. Most of them are centuries old and they've been doing this whole charade before you were even born. If one ever came close to you, you wouldn't know what they truly were until after they robbed you blind." Dimor started to break his croissant in pieces. "Nasty fuckers."

"You don't seem to like them."

"No one likes them. They tried to take over the fairy realm as they did with the humans, but we were having none of it. They flew out the front gates even faster than when they came in and never came back. I think..."

There was a silence. Eric looked outside, at the sky. It was going to be a beautiful day, despite everything, and he was looking forward to it.


	11. Eng

They had been living together for three month when they moved into their new flat. Dimor was glad to leave the hotel room. It made him feel claustrophobic. The flat's rooms were not much bigger but at least he didn't have to share them with Eric at all time. He knew that he couldn't transform anyway but the feeling persisted anyway throughout the years, and there was always this instinct at the back of his mind that constantly checked if he had enough space. 

Not that he disliked Eric... most of the time, at least. He didn't love him either; he guessed that the best adjective to describe his impression was that he was tolerable on average. Sometimes he did some efforts, like when he had forsaken the flat he had had his eyes on for the one that had a bathtub for Dimor. Sometimes he was obnoxious, and arrogant, and dodgy. One of the things that annoyed Dimor the most was that he produced those small white lies all humans did, like when he said that he had thought of buying sardines when they weren't any in the fridge - as if DImor wouldn't notice. However, all things considered, it was a small, petty complaint; Dimor knew that it was. Eric was okay, as an owner. At least he listened to what Dimor wanted. 

There were, however, some things that neither of them wanted to bring up, like the fact that Dimor also liked men. It was weird to see how Eric danced around it, to the point where he'd stopped himself mid-sentence when he realized where it was going. Secretly, Anton was grateful for it. He didn't want to discuss that either. It wasn't that Eric was ugly, he was all right for a human - and it's not like Dimor was particularly attracted to outside characteristics. It related to his previous issue with him: that he was tolerable. If Dimor was to fall in love with someone, it wouldn't be with someone _tolerable_. So they agreed on the subject never being brought up, for the possibility to never be acknowledged, and that was the best Dimor could ask for. 

They had other things to think about. Eric was testing his delivery service and setting up, with his poor programmer skills, a page for his restaurant where people could order. At least Dimor could admire his perseverance, the sheer amount of hours he spent looking up web programming tutorials and troubleshooting. Eric had told him that he had taught himself on the go how to manage a restaurant. Now that Dimor saw him at work, he believed him. 

He didn't involve himself, knowing that in the end it would all come together for Eric and, instead, he focused on re-doing his clothing collection; he had lost most of it at Richard's death. The old shark had not even bothered writing in his testament that Eric was the one that would inherit it - maybe he was worried that this weird collection of items, along with the necklace, would draw some attention to them. It wasn't every day that an old men offered a young man an entire collection of skirts and lace-decorated clothes. 

Not that Dimor was really hung up on it. He enjoyed making clothes for himself. Maurice, his second owner with the clothing shop, had allowed him to learn by watching some of his tailors at work and using some of the material from the shop itself. Those had been his fist happy memories from his time in the human world. 

He had collected many ever since. Sure, it was dreadfully lonely around here, with just one person at the time to talk to, but Dimor could at least enjoy the material comfort humanity had attained. To think that he needed no magic to fill a tub with hot water! And electricity, that could do anything in his place, was also very convenient. He indulged himself in comfort and asked for it when he didn't have it. Sometimes, he had the sensation of drowning amid soft sheet, heat, and abundant food. Better that than drowning in tears, he told himself. Not that he had cried for his old life for a long time. 

Sometimes he thought he would, though. When he spotted an item he just knew his sister Ekedie would love, or when he caught himself wondering about what his parents were doing at the moment if they were still so in love that he had a new little sibling or two. He chased the pesky thoughts away. He had learned the hard way that clinging on to them only brought suffering, like holding on tight to a piece of broken glass did. 

However, even if Dimor had been used to the sweetest of luxuries modern life could offer, there were some things that never changed, like the feeling of the sun on his face. When he was at Green Dragon Burgers, especially at the beginning of the afternoon, he would sometimes leave whatever he was doing behind and sit on a chair on the street, enjoying the simple heat and watching people passing by without being seen. That was when he saw Eng again, even if that was completely unexpected. 

The man was on the smaller side yet confident, walking with his back straight, knowing that he was handsome - or at least being so confident in that fact that this was how he came across. There was a quality to him that was quite uncommon, so much so that when someone saw it they never forgot it. Dimor sure didn't, especially because at the time where they first met people of Asian ascendance were quite rare in Europe. 

"No way," muttered Dimor for himself when he saw the man pass him and walk inside, surely interested in the delicious smell of the food that Amita was making. The vouivre got up without a second thought, moved by the need to take a closer look. 

There were a lot of people near the counter, waiting for their order: Dimor didn't approach. Unless the person was capable of seeing beyond the Veil, they phased right through him like ghosts. And while Dimor didn't feel anything, it was a quite disagreeable sensation in its essence to be walked through. He didn't want to experience it any more than necessary just to get a look at someone he was _surely_ mistakening for someone else, even if he was certain he wasn't. 

But Eng couldn't be here. He couldn't be alive. The last time Dimor had seen him was eighty years ago. And this was a thirty-year-old man at most!

But it was true. Eng ordered a vegetarian burger, turned around, and it really was him. But the craziest part was that he saw Dimor and stopped square in his tracks. 

"Eng?" said Dimor. 

The hesitation in the other's face lasted a fraction of a second before his eyes lost their focus and he started walking again. But he walked around Dimor, so that they wouldn't bump in one another. And then he tried to leave. 

"Eng, it's you!" Dimor knew now, he knew that the other was really who he thought he was. He knew what it implied. And he knew why the other was trying to get away from him as fast as possible. 

He didn't know why he chased after him. It was a stupid thing to do. They had never spoken to each other, and they were not supposed to. To this day, Dimor had no idea that Eng even saw him. But he did it anyway, and Eng walked quickly but not too quick that it would be suspicious. Dimor followed him until the end of the street, until he was sure that he woudn't be aknowledged at all, and stayed standing there until Eng dissapeared, uncaring that people were walking through him in this busy midday hour. Why had he followed him? Was he really that desperate for the company? 

He shook his head. Stupid. 

Eventually, he had to move, so he did, going back to Green Dragon and then back in Eric's office. The man barely looked up when Dimor came back in, taken in by his work. Dimor took it as an invitation to stop walking and just stare at him too, really looking at him. He watched him pass a hand through his dark brown hair before looking stretching. Then he looked at Dimor. 

"Is something the matter?" 

Dimor shrugged. "Nothing, really." 

"Is it something that concerns me?" 

Dimor thought about it. He didn't feel the burn in this throat that would indicate anything as a lie when he thought about answers, so he eventually decided to say, 

"No. It doesn't." 

He didn't wait for another answer and just sat down on his couch. He looked at the crochet characters that he had made this morning, all lined up on the low table in front of him, but he didn't see them. 

It's not like Eng was of any concern to Eric, he thought. So what if he happened to be a business partner of one of his former owners, a hundred and twenty years ago? So what, even, if he was a creature from beyond the Veil? He told Eric all the time that they existed among humans, it shouldn't be such a big deal when he met one in real life. 

As for ignoring him and pretending as he didn't see him, Eng was probably protecting his cover as a human the best he could. Dimor had probably startled him. 

"Dimor, you're lost in thought again. You can just tell me," said Eric. 

"I can think, you know. It's not because I'm pretty that I don't have a brain." 

Eric smiled and shook his hand around, trying to pacify him. "I know you can think. You're very good at making things."

The compliment aimed right, appealing to Dimor's vanity. He turned his nose up a little, but not as sharply as he would to any other response. He was hostile to Eric as a principle at this point because Eric almost didn't react to it anymore. In fact, he easily danced around it, and their conversations were starting to resemble the quick and precise back and forth of two casual tennis players. 

"Are you quite sure you don't want to tell me? You look concerned." 

"Why would you care?" 

"Why, aren't we business partners, or something? We're at least..." he paused, thinking, but for a second only. "We're at least partners of some sort. We can have each other." 

"That's unusually thoughtful of you." 

"Hey, it's not because I'm smart that I don't have a heart." 

"Are you sure that you are even smart?" 

"I don't know, how can you even tell how smart someone is, truly? I think that the only thing that can be measured is beauty, and even then... Lots of different types of it." 

"You're the one saying that? I thought you had a type?" Dimor was referring to a notebook full of pictures of half-naked men he had found while helping to unpack in the new flat, that Eric had made when he was a teen and kept for the laughs since then. He had been very amused to see how many muscular blonds there had been in it.

"Now you're being nitpicky because you think I don't appreciate you. You guys, you don't want anything to do with us gays but the moment we don't flirt with you--" 

"I'm bi," interrupted Dimor. 

There, it was said. Eric didn't seem to know what to say. Dimor wondered if saying that had been a mistake; surely, if it was, it couldn't be too bad. 

"Well," he said in a voice that was half-spoken and half murmured, "I'll let you know that I think you would look dashing in a suit. Even with the long hair." 

"No one is touching my hair or putting me in a suit," answered Dimor. He ignored the compliment and the tone in which it was delivered. "I'll only wear modern clothes - by your standard of modern - when modern people will actually be able to see them." 

"I guess that means never, then."

"Yep." 

"Whatever, I guess," Eric concluded, leaning back. 

If was only later that Dimor noticed that they had avoided the conversation about Eng. He didn't really care if they did. Eventually, he forgot all about the incident himself. 


	12. The Party

Dimor was okay with parties. It just sucked when he had no one to talk to, but at least no one was seeing him talk to no one. He snagged some salty bites when no one was looking and judged people that stuffed their face at the buffet, but deep down he wanted to go home and read a book, or maybe figure out that ceremonial robe he was trying to design... not that he had anyone else but Eric to look at it, and it was known that Eric liked his horribly minimalistic clothes anyway. 

At least Eric was enjoying himself. He finally had his second restaurant. He's been courting this occasion ever since he had received Dimor's heart six months ago, and it had come to him with open arms. Tonight was the inauguration. It was a small thing seen from the outside, an evening with a double dozens of strangers gathered together to commemorate a nook in the wall expansion of a business practically no-one had heard about, but for Eric it was big. Dimor was starting to know him well; the man saw this as nothing but the first step towards something more ambitious. 

Whatever, thought Dimor, it's not like he cared. Eric still avoided the subject of releasing him entirely, like it was some sort of taboo ritual - when in fact all he needed to do was give him his heart back. Dimor knew how it went. The day he'll be delivered of Eric will be the day he dies. He'll only be handed down to the next in line. 

At first, he had fought tooth and nail to be freed. He'd scream, cry, beg, tell them that he wanted to go back home. The witch that had first gotten her hands on him had been particularly cruel, especially with her words. She had almost made Dimor doubt that his family loved him at all since they had not manifested themselves to come and get him. But he knew that it wasn't that simple. The enchantment that bonded him to his masters was as powerful as it was old, rooted in the very fact that he was born from an impossible union. It was impossible to break unless his master wanted it. 

As time passed like a river on him, it eroded his fighting spirit. He wanted to forget that he was ever free at all, for it caused him too much suffering. Luxury among humans meant that he could get access to plenty of products to soothe his pain. This had been the darkest, most muddled times of his long life, and in the present day, those were the years he would rather forget. It was to the point where he didn't even know what had happened in the world at the time - and he didn't want to learn about it. 

He didn't know what prompted him to leave behind the drinking and the opium. Maybe that there were still little joys to be found, or that he was better than just moping around feeling miserable all day. He took up crafting to fill the void, knitting, sewing, taking care of himself as well. They comforted him, giving him the impression that someone truly cared for him - even if it was just himself. Looking back, he was glad that he had left it behind. When he heard about the modern ways of losing yourself, he had chills. It could have been him, he thought when he saw documentaries on the television. Him laying on the ground like that, in his filth. But he was stronger. And he knew how to avoid thinking about things that wore his will thin. 

Gloomy thoughts did no good to him. He was better off going to check on what Eric did, maybe comment on it if he felt mischevious. 

He found Eric in a deep conversation with his mother, that had travelled all the way from the next city to come and visit them for the occasion. She was a short, happy woman with pale skin. Looking between her and Eric, it wasn't hard to guess that his darker undertones - barely noticeable until he tanned - came from his father. Dimor approached the two of them to listen to their conversation. Eric's eyes flickered to him but, obviously, he didn't comment. 

"Look at you, so successful now," she said. "That Anton must be biting his fingers after having left you." 

"I don't think that he cared how much money I made," Eric said. His smile was there, but also a little sad. "We were just not meant to be." 

"Aw, come on." She nudged him in the side. "It doesn't matter what he thinks. It's a rather sweet victory. Who needs him, am I right? The way he just threw you out with no warning was rude. How is your new flat?" 

"Small," said Dimor. "Baren. Miserable." 

"Just perfect," said Eric. "A bit on the smaller side, and we're still waiting on some furniture to be delivered."

"You should look in second-hand shops that covers furniture. Sometimes old stuff ages better than all the new ones. I had this new cabinet that was as strong as paper, not two weeks in and the hinges were coming off - and I had Mr Barton put it up, so it's not just because I did it wrong. Money money money - that's all the rich want those days, so they try to drain it from us, the little guys." 

"Don't be paranoid," Eric said. He was trying not to laugh. "Mr Barton never even looks at the instruction manual when he builds something. You should have called me to put it up, it wouldn't have broken so quickly." 

"And have you take care of little old me when you have better things to do? That won't do. You are becoming someone, Eric, you can't be held back by people - not by me, not by your boyfriend and certainly not by the people that would rather not see you live your best life." 

"I'm just a small restaurant owner," Eric said. But Dimor wasn't fooled: he was very evidently flattered by the admiration in his mothers' voice. "No big deal."

"It's a big deal. Especially after all the risks you took to get there - I'm still not over the time where you casually told me that you were going to drop out of university to start working in a restaurant - a restaurant! I thought you had gone mad. But I'm so glad it turned out well in the end." 

She looked around as neither of them spoke. The new location was bigger than the old one, with more light and more spots to sit - there was no doubt in Dimor's mind that this would earn them even more money than the last one. And then, maybe, they would be able to move in a flat that was more to his convenience without being limited by budget. At least they had a bathtub now. 

That being said, Dimor mostly complained for the sake of it. On the surface, he didn't miss anything. A lot of people would kill to have their every need met without working as he did, and Eric, so far, had been one of the best masters he had in a while: when his attention wasn't turned to his work, it was turned to him, talking to him and listening to him. 

But Dimor would be lying if he said that his heart didn't ache when he saw the other talking with his mother. His own mother had always been sweet and understanding, almost too ready to see the good in others. His father had protected her fiercely because of that, ready to fight whoever might hurt her by abusing her abundant trust. 

Oh darn it... he missed them. 

He didn't stay around Eric and his mother much longer. Suddenly turning away, he went through the kitchen door to the storage room and then to the inner courtyard. The cool air did his mountains of good. Even if they were still in town, even if the persistent, hateful smell of pollution floated in the air, he felt a lot better. He looked up but couldn't see the stars because of a cover of clouds.

He thought that Eric wouldn't notice that he had left, but he did. FIve minutes later, he passed the door as well, smiling when he found Dimor there. The latter looked at him but didn't smile back. He didn't have the desire to do so, why should he? 

"Is something the matter?" he asked. 

"Hmm. Do you need me to hold your hand back there now?" Dimor straightened, leaving behind the wall he had been leaning against. "You seemed to be doing fine."

"Hey, don't ignore my question." 

Dimor didn't answer right away. This was one of the moments where he wished he could lie. 

"I have family, back in my world. I was thinking of them when I saw your mother." 

There it was, the taboo they didn't dare speak about... that Eric didn't want to hear about. He expected silence to return, maybe even for the other to return to his party and forget Dimor ever said that. 

"How is it, over there?" Eric asked. 

"Pardon?" 

"At your home. Where is it in your world?" 

Dimor stared at him, too shocked to answer. 

"Is this something I shouldn't ask about?" Eric seemed uncertain. "You never seem to want to talk about it. I'm curious, but you don't need to answer me if you don't want to." 

"Oh, no, I'm fine with... answering you. I'm just surprised you would ask at all." 

For some reason, that made Eric laugh. 

"What's so funny?" 

"It's not really funny but, you know, it's a bit strange that you think I'm not curious about it. You're this incredibly beautiful, powerful creature from an entire other world that does incredible things. I was dying of curiosity." 

Dimor's lips twitched in amusement. "I'm not that impressive." 

"To me you are."

There was silence again but it was a comfortable one. 

"It's not part of this world," said Dimor. 

"What? You're like... some sort of alien?" 

"If by alien, you mean that didn't grow on this Earth, why yes. This is a foreign world to me. But my kind used to live with you, the humans, before they made their own dimension." 

"Wait - they made a dimension?" 

"Well, not one as big as this one." Dimor gestured, encompassing everything around him. "But yes, pretty much. One with their own rules and that lived on magic. That didn't make fairies very popular with the other supernatural races because, for that to work, they needed to steal a part of the magic of this world. But they quickly changed their tune when the humans started to destroy their environments and they started to rely on us to find refuge."

"Wow... I didn't know that." 

"It happened a long time ago and, well, there is the fact that not everyone wants you to know the truth." 

"True." Eric smiled. Dimor knew that the human didn't believe him. "The mysterious rulers that want to exploit us all, poor, miserable little humans." 

"They exist." 

"Sure. I believe you." 

"You don't." 

"I do!" He laughed. What an idiot. "I really do. What else can you tell me about it? That other dimension. Surely it has a name?" 

"Erbothia. And there aren't any fast food joints because people have taste." 

"Aw, come on. That's low. And we both know that you secretly love fast food." 

"Indeed... A sign that I have fallen quite low since I first departed from it." Dimor sighed dramatically.

"You don't mean that." 

"No, not really. But I only like the burgers from your restaurant." 

"I'm glad." And then, after a pause, "If they are to be worthy of anyone, it's you, since you helped with it all." 

"You make it sound as if I had a choice." 

Eric, for a moment, looked embarrassed. Dimor almost regretted his harsh words... almost. He observed the other, curious as to how he was going to react. 

"I know it sounds like empty words," Eric said after a while, "but I do want to release you someday." 

"Really?" 

"Yeah." He rubbed the back of his head. "They will be a point where keeping you would just be greed. I just want to do until then, and after you'll be free to go back. To... Eternia." 

Dimor snorted. As if. 

"I promise I'm not lying." Eric stepped closer. "I'll be your last master. I swear."

"If you say so." Dimor looked at the other right in the eye. "But I won't believe you until the day it really happens. You wouldn't be the first to tell me that, you know." 

"You'll see." 

"Hmm." 

There was a last silence. Whatever brief comradery from before had vanished, replaced by the distance of hundreds of years of hurt. Dimor looked up at the lamp that lit the inner courtyard, the bugs of the night that fluttered around the burning light bulb.

"I'll go back," Eric said. "Join me when you want if you want to leave." 

"I'm fine here." 

Eric didn't answer. He watched Dimor a while longer but left eventually. 


	13. Downslide

There was something wrong with Eric. 

At night, Dimor could hear him get up and walk around the flat, moving things around and stealing snacks out of the fridge. Well, from his fridge, but it was weird that he was doing that in the middle of the night. And he often asked how Dimor was, if he was comfortable or if there was something he wanted, and it had become so frequent that it had become odd. But the most obvious sign was how he seemed always so lost in thoughts, stressed. He bit his nails when he thought that no one was looking and his fingers were starting to look terrible. 

Not that Dimor _cared_. After all, even if they had some moments of comradery now that they had been living together for eight-month, Dimor never forgot that he was the one that kept him prisoner. He didn't ask why Eric looked so stressed all the time, didn't even bother himself worrying about it. He just lived on and only interacted with him when he was in a good mood, which seemed to be something that was becoming rarer and rarer. 

Until he walked in that morning and found Eric staring at a pile of papers and five empty mugs, having very obviously powered himself through an all-nighter on the sheer power of coffee. He seemed devastated. Despite himself, Dimor felt his heart tighten. 

He dropped himself on the seat in front of Eric with a sigh. The human looked up at him without seeing him, too lost in whatever he was thinking to realise. 

"All right," Dimor said, "I'll bite. What is happening?" 

Eric shook his head before taking it in both his hands. Dimor waited patiently, sipping on his coffee. Answers came to those that knew how to wait, said his mother. She was very good at making every single one of her many kids spill the beans when they had messed up by just staring at them quietly. Dimor knew by now that Eric was weak for that tactic as well.

"It's not working," he said. 

"Pardon?" 

"The second restaurant. It's not working at all. There is no one coming in, not even when we go all out on advertisement." 

"What do you mean, not working?" Dimor laughed. "Is this your idea of a joke?"

Eric looked at him. He looked so tired and done with everything. Surely that was some sort of joke. It couldn't be anything else but a joke! He had _Dimor_. He had his heart. His luck! Nothing resisted his luck before, it always leads his owners to the best possible outcome. 

"You must have made a mistake somewhere. Of course it's working," Dimor continued. "No wonder you have, with how much sleep you have been getting lately. I hear you get up again at night, you know. Now, what is _really_ bothering you?" 

"I wish..." Eric rubbed his face. "Dimor, I really fucking wished that this was a joke, but it's not. There are no clients coming in. I've checked everything, the reviews on every site, the location, the advertisement, the cooks. I've been doing nothing but that. I don't know why it's so."

Beat. Dimor didn't know what to say.

"I even checked if I was taking good care of you," Eric continued. "Unless there is something you are hiding from me... There is no reason for it not to work. But it's like your powers suddenly started to have the opposite effect - it's magic, it has to be." 

"That's impossible. It never happened before," Dimor said. 

"Well, it's happening now." 

"It's _impossible_!" Dimor stood up, taken in the moment. "It has never happened, not in the two hundred years where I have been... No! That's not right. There is a mistake somewhere. Go over everything!" 

"What do you think I've been doing all this time? I've gone over everything three times this night! Even paper, every document, I've checked them all. When there are no clients, Dimor, _there are no fucking clients_!" 

"Liar!" 

"Why would I be lying to you?" 

"_Liar_!" Dimor was enraged. He wanted to throw his cup at Eric's face so bad but he couldn't: their bound was stopping him from doing so, just like he couldn't lie. "Stop saying things that are not true!" 

"Dimor!" Eric stood up. "Dimor, calm down!" 

"I'm calm-- Let me go!" 

Eric had approached and grabbed his arm, stopping him from running away. He had not realized that he was about to leave the room until he was prevented; said realization brought some sense back into him. 

"Dimor, what's wrong? Why are you upset?" 

"Because... because it's not possible!" Dimor shook his head. "My powers bring luck. They always do!" 

He made a strange face and let go of Dimor. The latter turned away and left the room. He needed to be alone. 

Eric wasn't a liar.

He continued to lose money in the second restaurant. He seemed to have understood that it greatly upset Dimor, so he didn't mention it again, but that didn't stop the Vouivre from seeing. And now that he knew what to look for, he was seeing other things that he had willfully ignored before, like how the first restaurant was also losing clients. 

Green Dragon Burgers had been a _trend_. Now, it was as if they didn't exist anymore. 

The idea scared Dimor shitless. He had never heard of something like that before, not from his siblings and not from himself. There was no way he was losing powers. He wasn't losing powers! He refused. The thoughts were round and round in his head, driving him crazy and keeping him awake at night. He had not realized how much he valued himself based on his powers until that moment. 

He turned around in his bed and stared at the glowing dials on his nightstand clock. Four in the morning and not once he had managed to fall asleep. The thoughts, toxic, vultures, circles around his mind again and again, and it had been so for several nights now. He knew what would quiet them.

He stood up and tip-toed to the kitchen. The light of the fridge projected his silhouette on the opposite wall. In the tray of the door stood a half-finished bottle of wine. 

Eric didn't drink outside of occasions. This was from a time where he had friends over and had wanted to impress them with something fancy. It had remained untouched since then, but not unseen. 

Dimor stared at it for a long time before pulling it out. 

He didn't close the fridge, using the light to read the label. He didn't register anything it said, it was just an old habit of his. His hands were shaking ever-so-slightly. He was just going to take a sip. 

A single, innocent sip. To help with sleep. 

"Dimor? Are you up?" 

The bottle slipped from between his fingers and smashed on the ground. Wine splattered all over the kitchen tiles. 

"Fuck-- Dimor, what the hell," said Eric as he turned on the overhead light. "What the fuck are you doing?" 

Dimor didn't answer. The glass had cut scratches on his feet and legs and the alcohol burned. He looked down, letting his hair hide his face. 

"Dimor?" Eric's voice was softer now, hesitant. "Are you all right?" 

Where was his mind? He couldn't let a human see his weakness, let alone his master. He straightened and did his best to look defiant - frowning at Eric as if he had interrupted something he was totally in control of. 

"This is none of your business," he said.

"Maybe, but you need help. You're standing bare feet in a puddle of glass and wine. Let me at least... You know, get you slippers and help you step out of this." 

Eric left the kitchen for a while, leaving Dimor alone. The latter closed the fridge with a scoff. He could perfectly manage on his own. He didn't need anyone, at all! After the shame came the anger, violent and irrational, and gone as quickly as it had come the moment Eric appeared again with some slippers. They were more like shoes that were used inside, but still. Dimor put them on without a fuss, making sure that he wasn't going to cut himself. 

Eric cleaned up without saying a word as Dimor watched. He didn't know what to say. When Eric was done, he sat back on his ankles, looked up at Dimor and asked a question the latter didn't expect: 

"Dimor, are you an alcoholic?" 

The Vouivre, mad again, sputtered indignantly. "Alcoholic? Mind your own business." 

"You were, were you?" 

Dimor didn't answer, but the truth was burning to come out and he didn't feel comfortable. He shifted his weight on his feet and looked away. 

"Look," Eric said, "you really weren't subtle about it. I know... I know what it looks like when someone isn't feeling all right, okay? And I know I might not be the one you want to talk to about what you are going through, but I promise that I want to help." 

"You. Want to help." 

He looked at Dimor right in the eyes. "Yes. I do. I don't want to see you like this, Dimor. It pains me." 

"Pains you?" Dimor searched his face; he was surprised to find that Eric looked very honest about that. "Well, that's new." 

"For... fuckssake, Dimor, why do you have to be so hostile all the time." 

Dimor laughed. He was amused, in an ironic, self-deprecating way, but he was honestly amused. That he would be the one that told him that! As if he had any right to help him. 

"Oh, all right, I get it," Eric said. "If you just want to be so proud and refuse any help, then I'll go to bed. You can wallow in your pride and self-pity until tomorrow if you wish. At least that was the last of the alcohol in the house." 

"Yeah, go away." 

"Fine." 

And he left, leaving Dimor feeling even more miserable than he had before. Back in his bed, Dimor was still mad but, with no one to be mad with any more, it quickly dissipated. 

He just felt so alone.

He wouldn't cry, he told himself. Easier said than done because his thoughts kept coming back to subjects that wanted to make him cry. He wished he could have had some of that wine yet was glad that he had broken the bottle. He eventually fell into a half-sleeping stupor, where visions emanating from both his memories and his dreams mixed together. 

He saw Eng again, both his former master's business partner and dealer. He must have known that Dimor consumed the extra behind the scene, he must have seen him back then. That's why he kept offering so much opium, and that's why he was never surprised when he heard that it was all gone. In his hallucinations, Eng was sitting with his family, laughing contemptuously as him now. Dimor, dimor, he called, you're pathetic, you're all human now. Aren't you? You act like one. You're one of them. 

Without your powers, you're one of them. 


	14. Talk to Me

Dimor felt the couch give in under some weight. He wasn't sleeping, not yet. He had just woken from a nightmare, again, and he was waiting for his brain to stop freaking out about being squeezed in tight spaces when he clearly wasn't. The moment that will be done, he would be able to go back under - but he couldn't do that if someone was talking to him. 

"Go away, Eric," he groaned, his face still stuffed into a pillow so he wouldn't be disturbed by the light outside. 

As a sole reply, Eric put a hot water bottle on him. 

"No..." Dimor said, weakly moving his arm to try and push it off him. "I don't want to wake up." 

"We need to talk." 

Dimor closed his eyes. So what if they did? He didn't want, and there was no forcing him to if he wanted to. He could just shut his mouth and keep quiet forever. And sleep. He had no will to do anything else, and it was nice. Comfortable. Sometimes he got dreams - most of the time it was bad dreams - but he longed for the abyss of nothing where time ceased to exist, or even the half-delirious state that came before. 

Eric put a second water bottle on him and adjusted the first. This didn't please Dimor, this was the opposite of being left alone as he wanted but, at this point, he didn't really have the strength to struggle. And the warmth did feel nice. 

After staying a while to make sure that Dimor wouldn't try to shrug the heating bottles again, Eric got up and went to the kitchen to get a coffee pot. It smelled just lovely when it was set down on the low table in front of the couch and Dimor couldn't close his nose like he could close his eyes. Slowly, he turned around and glared at Eric. 

"When was the last time you made something for yourself?" Eric said. "You barely even eat." 

"Don't we have to save money now?" 

"Coffee and food aren't where you're supposed to be making the first cuts." Eric smiled, but it was bitter. "We got enough to flutter a few months from the sale." 

Dimor turned away, back in the pillow. He didn't want to even think about the sale, the sale of the restaurant that was, in both locations. Eric was being careful not to bring a drop of alcohol in the house and had nothing else Dimor could latch on, not even cigarettes. That's why he bit his nails and slept so much now. He didn't even think he felt anything now, just numb when he wasn't actively pushing away thoughts. 

It was too quiet. Eric turned the television on. 

Nonsensical chatter spilt in the living room. Humans. So many damn humans. Humans everywhere, as far as Dimor could see, agitating themselves through their short, short lives, like annoying, ugly bugs. He hated it so much. 

"Let's watch a movie," Eric said. It should have been a question, Dimor thought. "I got a nice one." 

A few moments later, there was some introductory music. What did Dimor care about movies? He didn't want to watch any. He ignored. it. 

Eric came to sit down on the couch, right at the edge where Dimor left a little space to sit on. The latter glanced at him and saw him from the side, very attentive to what was on the screen. He scoffed. 

"Hey," Eric said, "you're hogging the living room all the time. I should get some time to watch movies too. If you want to leave, you can go in your room."

Dimor huffed but didn't leave. Slowly, he turned around so that he would be facing the screen. Eric replaced the water bottles against him. His back was warm and firm against Dimor's thighs and this was the most physical contact he had had in... well, it seems like it was forever. Maybe that's why he didn't pull away. 

And the movie wasn't as dull as he thought it was. The historical setting, some western european country during the Renaissance, reminded him of his home, or at least how it used to be when he left. It was the story of a woman, the only daughter among her brothers, and how she tried to always do the best with what she had. Despite that, Dimor thought that she was very silly and airheaded. 

"He's going to betray you," he told her, speaking in vain to the screen. 

"No, he's not," Eric said. "He loves her." 

Moments later, the boy ran away with all her money and her virginity - for some reason, the latter mattered more than the first for everyone else. Dimor sat up and Eric handed him a cup of coffee wordlessly. Curling his frigid fingers around a warm mug felt nice. And the drink was sugared just as he liked it. 

"Sleeping with the mistress of your husband isn't a good idea," Dimor said. 

"They aren't going to sleep--" 

The other woman kissed the main character. 

"Oh." 

Dimor chuckled in his mug. And he turned out to be right when the husband started to beat her. 

"Why are all the men so mean in this movie?" Eric said. "It's like they see that she is happy and they want to break her." 

"Well, she's bloody annoying." 

"She's successful and they don't want that." 

"I would wrack her on the head as well." But not as much as how much as her husband would. And he humiliated her, too. 

"But I love him," she told her maid, "because I know deep inside he's just a scared little boy. All of the men seem to be; little boys with big responsibilities and no one to guide them because no one taught them to listen." 

"Oh God," Dimor groaned. He served himself another cup of coffee because he deserved it. 

As one could expect, she died very tragically, of a sickness that reaped her while she was still young and beautiful, and she even managed to say 'I forgive you, for everything' to her evil husband before dying. And everyone cried at her burial, even the other woman. The end. 

"I'm surprised she didn't die from being beaten to death," Eric said. "Gosh, I feel hated just watching this. Who wrote this?" 

He looked it up on his phone. The write and the director happened to be a woman that was on record saying 'the universal experience of cinema should be and will be feminine'. 

Of course, Eric wasn't very happy with that. 

"If it was a man saying the exact opposite, everyone would be mad about it," he said. 

Dimor wanted to say something that would contradict him, just because he wanted to be in the camp opposite to the one of Eric, but this he knew nothing about the petty fights between human women and men. He found that he didn't care. He was just mildly annoyed at the main character and it was just a movie he had not wanted to watch in the first place. 

"Those type of women annoy me," Eric said. "I just want to live my life without being treated as the bad guy. I'm not even interested in them." 

This was boring. Dimor would rather be sleeping, but he was fully awake now and he wouldn't be going back to it for a while. And rather than endure another movie or a discussion about a movie he didn't really care about, he grabbed the bull by the horns. 

"You wanted to talk," he said. 

Eric turned to him. "Yeah, I did." 

"About what?" 

He passed his hand in his hair. He had cut it recently? He looked fresher than before, at least, and shaved, and dressed, and his clothes smelled of clean laundry. Eric had incredible cheekbones, with lashes long enough to reach down and kiss them when he closed his eyes. He was doing so right now, as he thought of what he was going to say; Dimor waited with all the patience of a creature as old as he was. 

"I guess it's more of an announcement, more than anything," he said. "We don't talk, Dimor." 

"We do." 

"Don't tell me you never noticed. We live together like flatmates." 

"And that's a bad thing because..." 

"Like bad flatmates. 

Dimor arched his brows. 

"The type that lives in the same flat and actively avoid each other." 

"That's because that's what we do." And he was glad for it. They had sunk in a comfortable silence where they knew what the other wanted and simply did what was necessary to accommodate him. It was better than fighting, better than pretending to be nice to one another. It reflected their relationship: nothing between them except distant feelings of dislike. "No need for your flatmate metaphor, that's exactly what we do." 

"Well, it's not healthy." Eric shook his head. "And you are the one that's ending up as the miserable one."

"Maybe." Yes. "But what do you have to do with it? Well, with solving the problem that is? Nothing. Leave me alone." 

"No."

"Just do it." 

"I refuse." Eric rubbed his face, slowly. "I said I got enough money to flutter for a while. Did I say that? Well, now I said it. I'm not going to try and find a job right away. Instead, I'm going to spend some time with you." 

"You? Are going to spend some time with me?" 

"Exactly." 

Dimor laughed. 

"Of course I'm going to spend some time with you, there's nothing funny about that. It's not like I reinvented the wheel. I'd say we both need that since all my friends seem to be getting mad with me lately." 

"And what are you hoping to achieve?" Dimor's words were spoken with his teeth ready to bite and masked behind a smile. "My powers won't come back if you're nice to me, you idiot. That's literally the last thing that's going to happen if they are gone. They would be just gone." 

There, it was said: the truth he had not wanted to say all this time. Just like that. Had it really been that hard? 

"That's not my aim, Dimor," Eric said. "Listen, I don't want to see you as just... a means to an end. You're more than that. You're a person I want to get to know." 

"Not a human." 

"No, you're not a human, but that doesn't change that you look like one." 

Dimor laughed again. "I don't. I really don't. You don't even know what I look like." 

"Well, I did get a glimpse of what's on the inside, then. You're going to tell me that it's not your real self?" 

"A bitter, addicted, depressed cynic? Why would you want to get to know someone like that?" 

"That's not all that you are. You're creative, and smart, and witty." Eric shrugged. "And if that really was what you were, all that you were, it's still my choice to spend my time with you." 

"Hmpf. Pretty words." 

Dimor leaned away from Eric, looking outside for a moment, to gather his thoughts. Eric was just suddenly all weirdly adamant about getting to know him and he was sure that there was an agenda behind it, he simply couldn't see what it was. He already had everything Dimor could give him, which was nothing, so in his eyes, Dimor couldn't be retaining any more value. Or could he? And if yes, what sort of value? 

"We could go for a walk if you felt like it," Eric said. "It would do you some good. Get some sun." 

"You mean, get a tan?" Dimor spat. "I think not." 

"Oh hush." Eric got up and stretched. "Your beauty standards are really outdated. Having a tan in the new must now." 

Dimor glared at him but, when Eric gave him a hand to help him off the couch, he took it. 


	15. Fairies of the Lake

They weren't going to the park Dimor had envisioned, which was the tiny patch of grass with two swings of the block. He should have suspected that Eric had planned something big the moment he saw that he had already prepared a backpack with "just a few snacks" (his words) and a picnic blanket, but he had only started to doubt when they climbed in the car. 

That human was up to something. First, this new intention to "get to know him". Now this outing? Dimor narrowed his eyes at him. This smelled suspicious if he ever had a sniff of it in his life. What was he up to?

"What are you squinting at me for?" Eric said. 

"You're up to something." 

"Like inviting you for a walk at the park?" 

"Something more." 

Eric sighed. "I'm genuinely just... I told you what I'm up to." 

"I don't believe you." 

"Well that's not _my_ fault that you don't." 

Dimor didn't answer since he didn't feel as if he had anything to say to that. Instead, he looked out the window. They were getting further and further from the town, he was sure of it, even if he had rarely come around here by car. He wished Eric had let him lay down in the back for a nap. Car rides were much too peaceful for him, and his mind went to dwell on things he didn't want it to dwell on. 

He turned on the radio but only caught white noise. He didn't want to listen to white noise, but any control beyond turning it on and off was only accessible through a touch screen. To him, any touch screen was almost as suspicious as Eric right now. They were working with a magic he didn't understand, and you don't mess with that. He didn't want to find himself accidentally summoning a demon or being sent to another dimension. 

"I got streaming. My phone connects to the car, so you can pick something from there if you like." 

Dimor stared at Eric. He was using this modern human jargon now, the one they used to call all the strange appliances that had appeared in their lives. Streaming? Like a river? At least he knew what a phone was, so he reached for the backpack on the seat behind Eric. The screen was cracked from an... incident Dimor prefered not thinking about. 

"The green icon-- No, that's the messages--" 

Eric reached for his phone, but Dimor pulled it away from his reach. 

"No phone while driving." 

"Since when are you of all people concerned about road safety?" 

"_No phone while driving._" 

"Fine." Eric straightened, annoyed that Dimor was right. "Just open the right application." 

"Bluetooth paired," the car said, her volume on its max setting. 

Dimor screamed and dropped the phone, startled by the loud voice. 

"Dimor, chrissake, don't drop it!" 

"I didn't _want_ to drop it this time!" 

"This time? Like last time you dropped it on _purpose_?" 

"No!" 

Dimor leaned down to get it, grumbling. That's what he got for messing with magic he didn't know! He was persuaded that it was all his bad luck coming through now. At least the screen wasn't more cracked now, he noticed when he went to fetch it. But he still couldn't find the app. 

He rose his head when he noticed that they had started to slow down. Eric was pulling up in a parking lot now, and Dimor could see an entrance to a park a little way off. So they arrived, and he had not even listened to a single song. 

But at least he had been entertained. 

"I'm sorry I screamed at you," Eric said when the motor was stopped. 

Dimor paused to look at him, then dropped his head awkwardly. He had not expected an apology. He never got those. He didn't really know how to receive this one. He wanted to reciprocate by telling him that he was also sorry, but he had not done anything wrong in his opinion. 

"Let's go and forget about all that, okay?" Eric said as he patted Dimor's shoulder. 

Dimor agreed, and they left the car. 

"I used to come here with my mother when I was a kid!" Eric said once they had passed the gate. "So many memories. We didn't have a car, but we walked there from our house."

Dimor nodded and looked around. The place looked huge large enough and was empty of people. It was a sunny afternoon, but also the middle of the week, too late for late lunch joggers and too early for people coming out for a walk after work. That left the elderly and young mothers with their tiny children. 

He zeroed on the small lake in the shade of the trees a little further off. 

"I'll show you my favourite spot," Eric said. "We got a blanket to lay, and I don't think you ate lunch, didn't you?" 

"Over there." Dimor pointed to the shade of a tree near the water. 

"That's not the spot." 

Dimor started walking. 

"All right, all right," Eric said as he hurried to catch up. "We'll go next to the water. But I warn you, it's cold and the birds often come and pester you - there used to be a mean swan living here. I wonder if it's still around?" 

No swann could have scared off Dimor, even if it would have had two heads and would have spat poison (it would have just reminded him of his cousins if it had.) He navigated the path with determination, took a wrong turn, and crossed through the grass. Eric followed him and didn't ask for him to slow down. Dimor wouldn't have. 

"Here," he said. "We're lucky it's not already taken."

"What's so great about that spot?" Eric asked as he laid out the blanket. "Is it some sort of magical place that gives you good health or something?" 

Dimor looked at him, trying to figure out if Eric was joking. He wasn't. "It's the best spot." 

"If you say so." 

That's when Dimor remembered that not all humans had his affinity for water, or were drawn to it like all Vouivres were. Their loss, really, because bathing was one of the best things ever. It's been so long since Dimor had done so outside, he thought as he started to undo the buttons of his shirt. 

Eric, that had been busy laying the blanket and taking out the food, didn't notice that Dimor was getting naked until he was too late.

"Dimor! What the hell?" 

The Vouivre turned around. Eric was covering his eyes, knowing that Dimor didn't like it when he looked. That was considerate of him, at least. 

"I'm going for a swim," he said.

"This isn't a lake made for swimming! There are people." 

People that couldn't see him or, if they did, Dimor was beyond caring. You couldn't bring a Vouivre next to water and expect them to ignore it, that was against the very laws of nature. Not wanting to waste any time explaining that to Eric, that would find a million things to say about that anyway, he ran to the lake and, with one swift leap, dove into it. 

The lake greeted him into its cool embrace, welcoming him like he was coming back to his own home. He could have purred. He loved warm bathes, there wasn't a shred of doubt about that, but it was nothing compared to tasting the vitality of a living lake, its potent magic pooling at the bottom and spreading out to warm him even if he couldn't use it. 

He opened his eyes under the water, observing the secret garden of the bottom. Creatures and fish scattered as he approached, plants brushed his bare skin. He was back in his element, more so than the air itself, and he realized how dearly he had missed it. 

When he emerged a few minutes later, expulsing the water in his lungs with a sharp cough to fill them with air. His weak, human-like body was starting to cool. It wouldn't be so if he was able to tap into the full potential of the place - oh, he missed the joy of spending hours swimming so very much. 

Eric, that was on his phone, waited for him under the blanket. He almost returned to him, but he was interrupted. 

"Excuse me," a voice said. 

Dimor, in the water from the waist down, turned to look at a two-feet-tall fairy. He was sitting on one of the small rocks of the lake, his arms crossed. He looked rather mad, and it didn't take long to figure out why: he smelled like a water fairy. Dimor had infringed on his domain. 

"Hey, I know that humans can't see me, so they can't ask, but I know you can," he spat. 

The tone didn't sit well with Dimor. "Well, excuse _me_ then," he replied. "I didn't know your lake was so fragile that a little bathing might kill it." 

"Hey, watch how you talk to me. You might be big but you don't scare me." The fairy took it to the air, his graceful wings fluttering behind him. With how tame nature was in the park, Dimor wouldn't be surprised if to learn that he was used to being the biggest supernatural creature around. 

"Pepperoni," said another fairy. She was standing on the side of the lake, very straight and lady-like but with her bust slightly out as if posing to be admired. "He couldn't know. Don't be such a bully, you don't have anything to say who bathes and who doesn't. It would be just too bad if you were to drive him away, wouldn't it?" She batted her lashes at Dimor. 

Dimor arum-ed and started to arrange his hair, giving himself something to do so that he wouldn't focus on the heat of his cheeks. He had grown unused to flirting a long time ago. 

As if his flustered state acted as an invitation, more fairies, those no taller than his pointer finger, swam up from the bottom of the later and took off to flutter next to his head. He could hear their tiny giggles as they surveyed him under every angle. 

Meanwhile, the one called Pepperoni didn't seem very pleased by the turn the situation had taken. He landed near the second fairy, that stopped posing to look at him. She was a little smaller than him, but not by much, and seemed to be specialized in earth or plants, Dimor wasn't close enough to smell her. 

"But that's my home," Pepperoni said. "He can't just... barge him! It's not like he is royalty." 

"Well, did you ask him if he was?" 

They both turned to Dimor. "Are you?" Pepperoni asked. 

"No, I am not." 

"See?" he said. 

"What's your name?" the she-fairy asked, back at her posing and her lash-fluttering. 

"Dimor." He paused. "Dimor Aldeban."

"A _noble_!" she squealed. "Oh my, you're the son of lady Aldeban, are you? Right?" 

"That is correct." 

"I've never heard of a Dim--" 

"Hush, Pepperoni, shut up." She took to the airs, coming closer to DImor. "I can't believe a noble is visiting us. Us! You look so beautiful. My name is May. What brings you around here?"

This sort of reaction reminded him of his old life, but he didn't remember how he used to react. Anyhow, it's not like he could say anything but the truth, so he glanced at Eric - that looked away from him when he did, probably because he was staring - and then back at the fairies. 

"I wasn't feeling so well, so he took me for a walk at his favourite park."

"Not feeling well?" May said. "My, what happened?" 

"My... my powers are leaving me, and I don't know why. I've been depressed, and so lonely." 

He might have been a little more dramatic than necessary when saying the last part, even if he had said the truth. He barely waited for his effect on the fairies around him: they gasped, some more than he had not seen rushed to him, and May seemed ready to burst with the desire to help him. Even Pepperoni seemed a bit more compassionate. 

Ah, he remembered how he used to act in his former life now. 

He let out a soul-crushing sigh and put his hand over his heart. "What am I to become without my powers?" 

"Oh, oh, it's all right!" said May. "We'll find a way! Let me just - I can ask for someone to come and take a look at you, so she can see what's the matter!" 

A dozen of the tiny fairies chimed in as well, but he had no idea what they were saying when they spoke all at the same time. At least they were cute. For someone his size, that was sometimes the only thing he could expect from this type of lesser fairies - flower fairies, as they were called sometimes. 

"I would be glad for it," he told May. "If you could do that, it would help so, so much." 

"Of course!" May straightened, looked around her as if she was about to assign someone to the task, and then realized that she was the one best fitted for it. "I'll go and find her."

"Find who?" 

"The witch!" 

Dimor probably made a face when he heard that. The last witch he had met had not been very kind to him.

"Oh, don't worry," May said when she saw his reaction. "She's nice. I promise. She helps us, and she knows so much!"

Some of the tiny fairies started to chant "Bread, Bread!" near Dimor's ear. It looked like, whoever was that witch, she was rather popular, and for a good reason. Someone that fed flower fairies bread couldn't be all that bad, could she?

"I supposed... it will have to do." He sighed. "But let me get out of the water first." 

Once more, Eric looked away quickly when Dimor turned to him and was polite enough to not glance as he stepped out. He didn't mind if the fairies looked. Among them, several were naked themselves, they simply didn't have the same relation with clothes as humans. He chuckled when he felt May cast a spell on him to dry him. Magic, when used right, was so convenient. 

"I don't have any towel," Eric said, "but I do have some paper towels, although they might not help much." He looked in his backpack for some. 

Dimor smiled. He had almost forgotten that the human could only see him because he carried his heart, and that courtesy didn't extend to his new friends. He reached for his skirts and put them on quickly. Now that he was out of the water, he was starting to feel the cold and it made him sleepy. If he was in his Vouivre form, he would curl his tail in the sun for a nap just about now - and this time, he wouldn't be sleeping to escape his thoughts. 

"Oh, uh, you don't... want them," Eric said. He had a roll of paper towels in his hand. "Right-- Wait. You're dry?" 

"Yes." 

Dimor smiled. Stepping outside, seeing some of his own, getting a swim - this was the happiest he had been in months, maybe years. With how rarely he got to experience that, he felt as if it glowed out of him. 

Eric stared, his mouth gaping. This drew Dimor's brows together. What had struck this idiot now? Did he have something on his face? Before he could ask, Eric was looking down and the moment passed as it had come. 

"I'll be right back," May said. "She's usually at home now that she lost her job." 

Lost her job? Dimor thought the coincidence to be odd, but he didn't think anything of it. He put his shirt on and sat down to tuck it in his belt. 

"All right," he said. 

"Pardon?" Eric answered. 

"I'll be right back!" 

Dimor waved her off, ignoring Eric's confused look, and watched her leave. 


	16. The Clever Witch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a new resolution that forces me to write a little bit of this story every day so that I don't risk leaving it too long with no update. The hardest part is always sitting down to get started; once that is done, I usually write way beyond my daily goal.

"Erm," Eric said after a while. "All right, I'll bite. What is happening?"

Dimor, that was looking at the food that the human had spread out for him and wondering if he was hungry enough, didn't answer right away. The flower fairies were messing with his hair, talking about how soft it was among themselves. He could tell that they were about to braid it, because some others were bringing flowers over. Should he answer? 

Oh, and what the heck. It wouldn't hurt to tell Eric. 

He rose his head. "I met some fairies while I was swimming." 

"Oh. Oh?" Eric seemed to understand, before getting confused again. "Fairies? As in... like you? Or like... invisible spirits?" 

"They are not invisible. You just can't see them." 

"But I can see you." 

"It's different. You see, you and I got a link. Because of you-know-what." Dimor was aware that they were not alone. He rather wouldn't talk about his heart being taken at all. He trusted those fairies, trusted them to be gossipers that was, and wanted to retain some control over who knew and who didn't. "You see me just fine because of that. But at no point did you acquire the power to see through the Veil..." 

"That sounded like an important nuance to explain," Eric said.

"Magic is complicated." Dimor reached for what he could only guess were salmon sandwiches. "It's always best to explain case-by-case. You can't blame me. I can't lie." 

"I'm not blaming you." 

"You are." 

"I'm not-- You know what, forget it. What about the people you were talking to? The fairies? Are they still around?" 

Dimor looked at Eric in the eye, before tearing out a piece of the bread of his sandwich and presenting it to the fairies - the faires that had seemed to flutter near it since he had picked it up just by _coincidence_. They squealed happily and rushed to it, picking at it with their tiny fingers to stuff their mouth full until their cheeks were round. 

Eric watched with his mouth gaping wide as the bread disappeared in front of his eyes. Even warned, it must be quite a surprising sight, thought Dimor. 

"How... can you describe them?" 

Dimor opened his hand to one, having her land on it. "One's sitting in my hand now. Butterfly wings, curly hair. Very cute." The fairy blushed and giggled. 

"Human looking?" 

The fairy pulled out her long butterfly tongue. 

"Almost," Dimor said.

Eric stared at Dimor's palm, squinting as if that would help. Dimor didn't know what sort of techniques humans used to teach themselves, so he didn't say anything. He waved his hand to chase the fairy, before opening his sandwich, eating the smoked salmon slice in it and giving the bread to the fairies. Then he reached for another. 

"How many... creatures do I not see every day?" Eric asked. 

"I would say about ninety-nine precent." 

"Well, at least I see you." 

Dimor sent him a puzzled look. What was that supposed to mean? 

"What did you guys talk about, anyway?" Eric asked. 

"Hmm..." Oh yeah. Maybe telling Eric was important. "Well, at first I was talking with a fairy that wasn't very happy to see me in his lake. He was called Pepperoni..." Dimor trailed out as he looked around for the latter. He was still sitting at the edge of his lake, hesitant as whether or not he should come closer. When he was looked at by Dimor, he perked up a little. "We talked from there. I mentioned my-- my condition. And now one of the fairies went to get someone to come and examine me." 

"Oh, like a-- a doctor?"

"A witch." 

"A witch?" Eric's seemed impressed by the news.

Pepperoni sat on the edge of the blanket. He seemed a little embarrassed and didn't dare meeting Dimor's eye, but still spoke. 

"I'm sorry I yelled at you before."

Dimor sighed and patted the side of his legs, inviting him over to come and lay there. Understanding that he was forgiven, Pepperoni did so, and happily. It was a common thing for lesser fairies to want to be close to nobles like him, Dimor was used to it from his old life. 

Eric watched, intrigued. He seemed to be aware now that there were others around Dimor, and was watching him carefully. Dimor ignored him until spoken to. The fairies started to take care of his hair, braiding loosely, after having brought flowers. He picked another sandwich for himself.

"Were you born in Erbothia?" Pepperoni asked. 

Dimor paused, not having expected to hear that name now of all times nor the surge of feelings it brought him. Erbothia. His home. Where his family lived.

"Yes," he answered. 

"I would love to go there someday. But then I would have to leave." 

Dimor petted the head of the fairy. "Maybe one day you'll go there, who knows."

"Is the witch here?" Eric asked. 

"What?" Dimor sent a puzzled look his way. "She's not. You would see her." 

"Oh, so you're talking to..." 

"A fairy, yes." 

"I didn't know." 

That was when someone else caught Dimor's eye: May, that was fluttering back to them, followed by a woman he didn't know, but whom he could only presume was the witch.

She was a blond, straight-laced woman, clad in a casual but somewhat curated outfit - as if she happened to be a person used to dress strictly caught on her day off. She seemed to have a purpose behind each other her steps, and barely faltered until she was standing in front of them. 

"Are you the one that sent for me?" she asked Dimor after having glanced at Eric.

She must have recognized him from the scales - and the fact that May, seeing that her friend already had his head on Dimor's lap, had fluttered right at him to that her spot on the opposite side. 

"It seems that I am," said Dimor with a shrug. "And you are the witch?" 

"Lola," she said. She sat down with them. "And you are?" 

"Dimor."

"May said..."

"That I was a noble? She told the truth." 

Lola's gaze lingered on him. She seemed... suspicious of him, despite her best efforts to hide it. That was understandable. Fairies, especially fairies of the human sized variety, were known for causing all sorts of tricks and troubles. Dimor himself had had a few friends with their own human slaves - slaves they had tricked into their service with no possibility of parole. It didn't shock him. They were treated well, most of the time. He, on the other hand, was not in the position to pose a real threat to her - not with his powers figuratively tied behind his back like hands. 

She turned to Eric. "And you? What's your name?" 

Eric seemed to be surprised that she paid attention to him, but he quickly recuperated. "Eric. I'm with him." 

"Freely?" 

Eric looked at Dimor, not knowing what to answer - probably not knowing how to explain their relationship.

"He's not my servant," Dimor said. "If that is what you are asking."

"Your _servant_?" Repeated Eric. 

"That's a relief," Lola said. "I can't exactly ignore that one of my kind is being held prisoner in front of my eyes and help his jailer - and May said that you were the one that needed help." 

"What sort of help?" Eric asked, suddenly suspicious. 

"For... my powers," Dimor replied, a little nervous. "She's going to check on me." 

"Like a doctor?" 

"Like a magic doctor," she replied in Dimor's place. "That's generally what I do anyway. They aren't many people in need of a witch nowadays - or in need of a physicist." The last words were said bitterly. She seemed to be holding a gruge, for some reason. "Supernatural creatures are anyway the ones that need my help the most. Not to brag, but I've saved a few lives."

"Erm--" said Dimor, before stopping himself. 

"Is something the matter?" she asked. 

"Is..." he didn't like considering it. It made him deeply uneasy. But he had to ask. "Is the loss of magic a fatal condition?" 

She gave him a long look, examining him. 

"It's not a _fatal condition_ per se, more like a symptom of something more serious that can cause death. However, when that happens, one usually sees that, well, the patient is *not healthy, and very obviously. That doesn't seem to be the case for you. You can stand fine, I heard that you just went for a swim, and I would have expected you to lose those scales on the side of your face by now, but you didn't. Unless they are glamour?" 

"They are not." 

"Can you describe what is happening to you, exactly?" 

"Well, I'm usually lucky, and that luck, erm, extends to Eric here. Until he lost both his restaurants." 

"Have you tried using minor spells, like fire breathing or purify water? How did those go?"

"I can't." Dimor shook his head to emphasize. "As in, I wasn't able to do those before." 

"You can't?" She seemed intrigued. "I should have asked this question earlier, but what are you, exactly?" 

"A Vouivre." Dimor rarely gave such a direct answer to strangers; usually, it would be something more along the lines of 'a creature of scales and water' or even 'a lucky charm', but that would mean he would be playing games and he was so tired of games. He just wanted a solution. 

"A Vouivre." She understood Eric and Dimor's link the moment she heard that; it was obvious from the way she glanced at the other human. "So you have his heart?"

"I..." Eric seemed at a loss of words. Guilt flashed on his face. 

"It's really not my place to put my nose if you do," she told him. "I don't _approve_ of it, don't get me wrong, but after having seen quite a few fairy servants... there are more humans trapped in Erbothia than fairies trapped in the human world, as far as I know." 

"Really?" asked Eric. He turned to Dimor. "You never told me that." 

"I never had a personal human slave," Dimor answered. 

"Personal?" repeated Lola. 

Dimor winced. She had caught that. She knew how to listen to fairy speech. 

"So they weren't yours," she concluded. 

"Who?" Eric asked. 

"The slaves that served him." 

"What says that he had slaves?" protested Eric. he turned to Dimor. "Did you?" 

Dimor shifted slightly, uneasy. "I didn't have any." 

"I didn't say he had any," Lola said. "I said, slaves served him. He's noble. I would be surprised if he didn't." 

"It's the same thing." 

"For a fairy, it's not. You got to listen to what they don't say just as much as what they say." 

"Can we focus on what you've come for?" Dimor said, mildly annoyed. He wasn't in the mood to listen to some woman lecture him about something he had had no control over - those slaves had belonged to his parents, after all. And he had never mistreated them.

"Yes, let's," she said. "Lacking magic, you said? I think that we would be better off at my place for that. It would be more discreet. It was pretty obvious that you were talking with someone, even from far, Eric." 

"Oh." Eric blushed, embarrassed that he probably had looked weird to someone that didn't know that Dimor had been there with him. 

The Vouivre shrugged, picked a sandwich and stuffed the salmon in his mouth before giving the bread to the fairies. He didn't like this woman. He hoped he wouldn't be seeing a lot of her in the future. 


	17. The Examination

Lola's flat was... interesting, noted Dimor. 

It was an open floor plan, yet it remained organized and well heated, giving a perfect sense of comfort. It reminded Dimor of home, of the vast verandas of his house where his family could lay with their tails half in the sun and half in the shade, gossiping about anything and everything as the uneventful hours went by. Of course, they had slaves bringing them snacks when they were hungry, but the only reason he was thinking about them, in particular, was that Lola had brought them up earlier. One didn't usually pay attention to something like a slave when one was noble. Unless the slave was meant to be looked at, but those were rare - talented performers of any sort were hard to trick and take to Erbothia. 

Her familiar was interesting as well. He was a sphinx. A grey, _housecat_ sphinx. He lazed on the backrest of a couch, intrigued by the visitors but not intrigued enough that he would get up to greet them. Dimor was very intrigued by the creature. He knew that humans had had an interest in breeding a smaller type of sphynx but he had never seen one for himself. 

"Welcome, welcome," said Lola. "You guys want something to drink? I got some tea, coffee..." 

"Some coffee sounds lovely," said Dimor. 

"Same for me." 

"All right. Also, this is Loak, my friend." She patted the sphinx. "Loak, this is Eric and Dimor. Eric can't see you, but Dimor can, obviously." 

Loak got up, trying to reach for pets from her, but she was already gone to the kitchen corner of her flat. He tried to camouflage it as a lazy stretch, then started to lick a paw to clean his ears. 

"Loak," Lola said in a warning tone. 

He rolled his eyes. "A pleasure to meet you." 

"Pleasure is all mine." From the way he had been ignored, Dimor would have almost believed that the creature wasn't capable of speech, and that was why he was a little surprised. 

"What do you see?" asked Eric. He looked from the couch to Dimor, then back at the couch.

"Not 'what', _who_," corrected Loak.

"So you know what sphinxes are?" said Dimor. 

"Yeah?" 

"Well, imagine one the size of a cat." 

"I'm objectively more the size of a lynx," Loak said. "And I'm smarter than one, so a lot more dangerous. Beware." 

Lola snorted from the kitchen but was nice enough not to correct him. 

"Oh," Eric said, perfectly oblivious. "That actually sounds really cool." 

"I like this man," Loak said. 

Lola came back from the kitchen at this moment, having set some coffee to heat. "Dimor, do you want to start now? I think that it will be a pretty open and shut case, either something's wrong, either nothing else. It will be pretty fast."

"I'd appreciate that," answered Dimor. The fastest he could get out of her presence, the happier he would be. For once, he was not really happy with the fact that someone else could see him. 

"Perfect. Let me take out something for you to lay on... Oh, Eric, feel free to take a seat." 

She went to get a yoga mat from a cabinet and laid it on the ground. Dimor laid down on it, face up, and stared at the ceiling. He didn't really know what to do with his hands, if he should cross them on his stomach or leave them on the ground. 

"Put your hands on the sides of your body," Lola said as she kneeled next to him. "So I can get a clearer energy reading. And relax - deep breath. Yeah, like that." 

She took the next breath with him and breathed with him for a few more moments. He felt himself relax. He had no idea he had been this tense, but laying down and relaxing was already doing him loads of good. 

When she was ready, she rubbed her palms before holding them over his body. She didn't need to explain what she was doing, Dimor knew that she was sensing his aura. He wondered what was her true skill level. 

"Ffffffrick," she said when she passed her hands over his chest. She pulled them back and rubbed them again. "Sorry, I didn't expect it. The hole in your heart chakra, that is. Holy-- I got a little scared. I never felt something like that before." 

Dimor gave her a small, apologetic smile, even if he knew that it wasn't his fault. 

"Let's get back to it," she said, adjusting her hands over him once more. 

She moved them over him slowly for a few moments more, and then she was done. 

"So?" Dimor asked. 

"You're fine." 

Dimor blinked a few times. "I beg your pardon?" 

"I said you're fine. Nothing wrong with you. As I thought, someone doesn't lose their access to their magic without being very, very weak. Sure, the missing heart chakra missing is pretty... off-putting, to say the least, and you could use some exercise and relaxation but, otherwise, you're in perfect health. Also, you got a tail. I didn't notice." 

Dimor curled his tail under his skirt, a little uneasy. This was the answer to his earlier question. For her to notice that from his aura, she needed to be quite good at energy reading. 

"But that doesn't make any sense," Eric said. "I lost my restaurant - both of my restaurants - after literally everyone stopped walking through the door. That's just an incredible stroke of bad luck, don't you think? If his powers are intact-- Well, that shouldn't have happened." 

Lola didn't answer right away. Eyes on the ground, she seemed to be thinking. Dimor got up and walked to the couch on which Eric had sat to claim the other end in the meantime. He was a little shaken, to say the least. If he was fine, then what was it? 

"It must be some sort of mistake," Eric said. "I mean, he's not human. How can you be so sure that he is all right? Have you ever met his kind before?" 

"Say," she asked him, "what is the name of that restaurant you lost?" 

"Green dragon burgers. Why?" 

"It collapsed not long ago. I think it was two days ago, maybe three." 

Silence. 

"It was empty, so thank God for that," she continued. "But, from what I heard from my friend - a friend of a friend was on the scene - they were doing renovations and took down the wrong wall." Beat. "But I know a gnome from the area and, according to her, there was a colony of Liliputh living in the walls that had weakened the whole structure. They were the first to realize that they had gone too far and had already moved out a while back."

Eric and Dimor looked at each other at the same time. 

"In fact, I would say that it's pretty lucky that no one was in there." 

This was the tipping point for Dimor. He felt a great weight being lifted off his chest, so much so that it almost _hurt_. He hugged himself tightly. His mind was running in all directions. 

The lilputh had obviously been living in that building before Eric bought it, weakening it. They were pests when they lived in great numbers, and very hard to detect because they were quite smart (and invisible to most exterminators). If the building would have come down on their head... they might have not survived. And Green Dragon Burgers would have had a bad reputation forever, which would have hurt the second building. 

Indeed, it was lucky that Eric had lost it. And he was fine. 

"Hey, are you all right?" asked Eric. 

He placed a hand on Dimor's back. The contact was unusual, but not... unpleasant. He was concerned for Dimor. Genuinely. Dimor leaned against him without thinking. 

"You're shaking," Eric said. 

"I'm fine." Just needed a moment to calm down. 

"If you say so." 

Eric smelled nice. Just being in his arms felt nice. When had Dimor been held in someone's arms like that? It felt forever. He used to like how warm humans were - he was quite warm, but they always seemed to be a little warmer than he was. 

He realized that he was about to sink further in his hold and pulled back instead. It had only been a moment of weakness. 

"Are you all right?" Eric asked again. 

"Yeah. Better." 

"I'm glad you're all right." 

Lola got up from the floor. "The coffee's ready. You guys want to stay and drink it?" 

"I wouldn't mind. How about you, Dimor?" 

Dimor nodded. 

They sat at the table and she gave them their hot mugs - Dimor's had a cat on it, and he thought that it was rather cute. She also took out cookies for them, but Dimor was the only one interested in those. Eric seemed a lot more interested in Lola herself. 

"Do you earn your living as a witch?" he asked after they had exchanged a few other questions. 

"No, not at all. It's not something you can earn your life with, as fascinating as it is." She sighed. "It's sad that it's a hobby. People lost sight of the magic part of life."

"I think it's a good thing," Dimor said. 

The humans turned to him, forcing him to elaborate. He swallowed his mouthful. 

"There used to be so much more hunters," he said. "Especially right before people started to say that they were all delusions. There used to be almost no supernatural creatures in the cities, for example. But now, we're talking about gnomes and fairies living in parks.

Lola kept quiet. 

"There is a reason fairies created Erbothia," added Dimor. "There are some creatures that might never come back to the numbers and the glory they used to have because of humans - like dragons. I had to be extremely careful when in the human world when I first came here." 

"I don't think that things would go down the same way today. People have changed. They are kinder, and more willing to share. And now, we are in the era of the imaginary. People _want_ things that are not real to be real. Look at the fantasy genre! And the video games that are coming out, and the books, and the movies-- people eat this up. If the Veil would break today, people would be all over it." 

Dimor huffed. He wasn't convinced. 

"You can trust me on that," Lola added. "Before my team was disbanded, I was working on crossing that gap. This was my actual job. When people hear for the first time that there are creatures out there that are not human yet that think like them, they always get excited at the idea." 

"Wait, wind back a bit," said Eric. "You worked on doing what? Crossing the Veil? How?" 

"Well, I was studying it, and trying to see how we can apply what we now know to it. My dream would be to show the world how much truth there are in old legends and the likes."

"That's never going to work," Dimor said. 

"Dimor," Eric said. "Don't be rude." 

"I'm right, and she knows it. She just said that her projects were stopped. I'm going to guess that she got no explanation for that. Am I right?" 

She shook her head. "Actually, we were told that our budget was cut short by our sponsors, so we couldn't continue. We tried to fight it, but they had better lawyers." 

"That's what I mean." Dimor took a quick sip of his coffee. "There are people that like the situation as it is. Well-- I wouldn't call them people as in humans. You two know what I mean."

Lola sighed. "I guessed that this was the case. I just didn't expect them to be so harsh." 

"It's too bad," Eric said. "Because there really would be an opportunity for making money there." 

Dimor gave Eric a look. Him and his money. Just when he had started to think that Eric was dropping this idea, he was back at it again. 

"I'm serious," Eric told Dimor. "Imagine something... that would allow people to see it. Just see it. Like a special machine. Maybe something infused with magic?" 

"Have you not listened to what I just said?" Dimor answered. "That's not going to work. Even if she made her own company on the side, independently funded, they'll find a way to stop her." 

"Not if she has someone that happens to be supernaturally lucky on her team." Eric turned to Lola. "As the one that handles any outside contact, and makes sure that finances come in smoothly. You need money, right?" 

"Wait," Lola said. "You mean to tell me that--" 

"There is a market for it. You just said it yourself. I don't believe that our meeting is a chance coincidence. Not after being stuck with this depressed snake for over six months."

"Hey," said the depressed snake. 

"What I mean to say," Eric added, "is that it can't hurt to try." 

Lola looked at Eric, then at Dimor, then at Loak that had just jumped on her lap for some attention. She petted him for a few moments, pensive. 

"I... I just met you," she said. "It makes sense, and it just might work, but-- We need to talk this through. And we need to make sure that we are not being too rash." 

"Of course." 

"But it's a start." 

Dimor sighed. He didn't believe that this was a good idea. But did the humans ever listen to the wise and knowledgeable magical creature when he said anything? Never. That never changed about humans. 


	18. Eric's Mistake

It was a slow day, and Dimor was hanging out on the couch. 

Well, it was slow for him. Eric was out with Lola, talking about something important, important enough that he had asked Dimor not to disturb him unless it was an emergency. Not that Dimor would have wanted to see him any more than necessary. He was fine on his own, and he didn't even want to use the phone that Eric had given him. Stupid old thing was wicked magic anyway, he should 'accidentally' pour some coffee on it someday. 

Besides, it's not like Eric needed his help on anything. He already had the most important part of him. 

What about other parts of him? A nagging voice, that kept crawling back from the dark corner in which it was being constantly shoved, started to push itself to the front of Dimor's mind. His heart wasn't the only thing worthy of attention. Eric should be taking care of Dimor more than he did already. 

Dimor sighed. 

All right, he'll admit it. He didn't really like the fact that he was alone. Eric might the one that held him against his will in this world, but one could hardly live with someone else and not learn how they thought and behaved - and, ultimately, learned to appreciate their good sides and live with their bad sides. And Eric... was more appreciated by Dimor than Dimor let him believe. 

First of all, Eric was careful to meet all of Dimor's need. Even if he didn't have to, he kept an eye on Dimor's cloth supplies, for example, to make sure that he never ran out of things to do. He always stocked up on fish too, even if that one wasn't so hard to think about. And he made sure to give Dimor the space he needed when he asked, yet kept a close eye on him to see if there was anything he could do for him. 

As for Dimor himself, he was feeling... a little better. Ever since they had figured out what had happened to his luck, his urge to sleep all the time had regressed, and he didn't think about drinking quite as much. In fact, the main bother in Dimor's life now was a well-known one: boredom. And he hated it. 

He didn't do much back in Erbothia. In fact, he was more productive since he lived with humans - something about them being always busy made him want to be busy too. But back home, he had had parties, and gossip, and people competing for his attention, among other things. No day looked like the other. He missed that. 

He heard the sound of the keys in the lock of the entrance and looked at the door over the backrest. Eric came in and beamed when he saw him. He always seemed happy when he saw Dimor, and Dimor would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that he found that at least flattering. So, even if he didn't smile back, he waved at him.

"How did it go?" asked Dimor. 

"It went great. We are making a lot of progress. Lola is finding people that are motivated to work with us, the bank is coming around with the negotiations, and someone from another company is considering working with us after I contacted them." Eric tossed his shoes to the ground and handed his coat. "How about you?" 

"Nothing much. Just laying around, being bored."

"Missed me?" 

"Eh, not really." 

Eric chuckled then approached the couch from behind, reaching to touch Dimor's hair; the latter let him do. Each day, Eric touched him a little bit more, slowly making Dimor grow more used to it as time went by. Two month prior, he would have never allowed it, but now here they were, and Eric's hands were moving to massage Dimor's shoulders. 

"Gee, you're tense," Eric said. 

Dimor grunted, and melted under the other's touch. There was something about the way Eric's fingers dug into his muscles that just felt so good and he wanted more. He grunted in pleasure. That was what he was talking about. He opened a few buttons of his shirt to uncover his shoulders and closed his eyes, imagining that the was being massaged by a servant back in his home after a long day at the spring. 

"Feels good?" Eric asked. 

"Yeah." 

The massage went on for a few moments more, then Eric slowly pulled away. Dimor had to restrain himself from chasing the touch, reminding himself of his situation and their relationship. As much as he enjoyed it, showing that he did a little too much was a big no-no. 

Thunders above. What wouldn't he give to get laid? It had been a while.

"I've got something for you," said Eric. 

"Oh?" A present? Those weren't uncommon. In fact, they seemed to only become more frequent as time went by. Dimor prepared himself to receive whatever trinket the human thought would suit his taste. Sometimes he even got it right.

Eric sat next to him on the couch. There was an envelope in his hand, and inside was something round and heavy. He held it up proudly, and Dimor was intrigued. If only for the brief rush they offered, surprised would be interesting. 

"I asked Lola to do this for me. She enlisted the help of some other witches she knew, so it cost me more than it should have, but I think it's worth it. I'm sure you'll love it."

"Well, then, show me what it is," answered Dimor. He reached out with a hand to it. "I'll decide if I do then." 

Eric grinned. He couldn't seem to contain his excitement when he dropped the envelope in his outstretched palm. 

The moment it touched his skin, a shock shot through Dimor. It had been a while since he had last felt it, but he knew the sensation too well to forget what it was: magic. He didn't even open the envelope, he tore through it with his bare hands and the present dropped on the couch. 

It was a pendant, attached to a cord so that it could be carried like a necklace. Made of jade, it was engraved with magical runes. The making was crude, almost ugly in Dimor's eyes, but he knew its purpose the moment he saw it. It couldn't be true. His hands were shaking from the emotion as he slowly picked it up and held it in his palm. He made sure to remember to breathe. 

"Lola wasn't very happy about it," Eric said, "but it's the least I can do for you. And I paid her fair and square for her work, so she wasn't really in a position to refuse." He laughed. "I just think you deserve it. You know. None of us would be where we are today if it wasn't for you." 

He closed his hands around the pendant, holding it so tight the harsh edges dug into his skin. Of course, she wouldn't agree with Dimor having it. She was a smart woman. She knew how fairies thought. She had most likely warned Eric a thousand times that it was a bad idea, yet he had gone for it anyway. Yet, Eric had not listened to her warnings. 

Dimor looked up and had the answer as to why. 

It seemed like it was the first time he really _saw_ that look on Eric's face, even if he recognized it for having seen it before. Many times before. And when he realized what it was, he quickly looked down to hide his smirk. 

Oh, this was just too good. His jailer was _infatuated_ with him. Head over heels, completely and utterly lost. Poor soul. Poor, poor little human, loving a fairy like Dimor. He was a perch that had forgotten that Dimor was a pike fish. 

"Do you like it?" Eric asked. 

"I..." Dimor unclasped his hand and looked at it. "I love it. Thank you." 

He put it on hurriedly after that, passing it over his head. It quickly found itself tucked under his shirt, out of sights, as all magical pendants should be. And then he breathed deeply, and then he transformed.

The transformation in itself wasn't in full since it mostly concerned his legs. They fuzed together, then covered in brilliant red scales as they elongated. In his hast, he toppled the low table in front of the couch, along with the empty coffee mug on top, but he didn't knock down television. 

Eric jumped back when he noticed what Dimor was up to, but he was too slow. He didn't escape the coils around his waist and found himself pulled back into his spot as the Vouivre loomed over him. 

His snake body was relatively thin, like the one of a poisonous snake rather than the one of a python, but its scales were smooth instead of sharp. It was strong too, so Dimor could use it to hold his torso high above the ground and look down on his prisoner, which he did with glee.

Eric looked up at him, and Dimor enjoyed every bit of fear he saw in his face. He reached down and stroked his cheek almost sweetly. At that moment, he liked Eric more than he had ever before. Who knew that being caught in his deadly coils would suit him so well? Because he was caught in a hold that could easily crush his lungs, and they were both very aware of that. 

"I love it," Dimor said. "Thank you so much, Eric. _Thank you_, really. You should have listened to Lola." 

"I just wanted-- I just wanted you to have a little bit of magic--" 

"Shhh..." Dimor placed a finger on Eric's lips. "When you don't know anything about fairies, the best is to listen to those that do know about them. You're a fool, Eric. At this point, it's only natural selection." 

When he heard the last words, Eric started to shake uncontrollably. "Please," he begged. "Don't hurt me." 

Dimor thought about it. He wouldn't kill Eric, that was for sure, because he needed him to be alive to give up his heart willingly. But hurting him? Pass the occasion when he was sure that Eric was physically incapable of hurting him back? That was quite a hard choice to make. There were so many things he could do to him. 

Dimor had missed the feeling of breaking bones so, so much. That's what he usually did to the humans that failed to steal his heart when he used to bath in wild ponds. It was part of the experience - enjoy the local fairies' attention, bathe, and crush the fool that tried to rob him of his heart. Until some witch tricked _him_... 

No, no. He wasn't going to think about her. She was dead. Now, the only thing that mattered was the present, and Eric. Sweet, sweet Eric! He loved him so much more like that, terrified in his coils. At his mercy. Like a toy. He could have his revenge for all those years of servitude right now if he so wished. 

Eric drew in a shaky breath. 

Dimor could tighten his grip if he wanted. But he didn't. 

"Don't move," he said. 

Eric didn't move as Dimor carefully pulled on the string around his neck until his heart appeared over the edge of his collar. He had not seen it for months now, and when he caught sight of the beautiful shades of red in its depth, he felt a lump grow in his throat. He missed it so much. He wanted it back, more than anything in the world, but he couldn't even touch it without being repelled. It didn't belong to him. 

"I believe you never asked me why I couldn't perform magic on my own, Eric," Dimor said. 

"Sorry?" 

"I usually should be capable of casting spells or reverting back and forth between forms," Dimor continued to explain. "But I can't. And you never asked about it." A golden rule of fairies was to never explain anything unless asked, but he felt so gleeful right now, he simply couldn't resist smugly indulge in Eric's mistake. "That's because there are spells on my heart. Spells that were put there by that witch." 

His hand hovered over the stone. He could feel the mixing of energies, his own and the ones of that vile woman. It was like a knot, and he had to figure out the right string to pull to undo it. He had to admit that, as much as he hated her, she had been a talented woman. 

"But-- But why?" Eric asked. 

"Why? Because I would have strangled her children during her sleep if she didn't let me go." 

Eric's face became pale, even paler than before. Dimor flashed him his prettiest smile. 

"What?" he added. "You didn't think me above killing to get out? Granted, I was a lot younger than I am now, and you tend to be a-- a lot more rash when you are young. She was a smart one, that woman. She understood quickly and asked the right questions. A bit like that Lola girl."

"Oh God..." 

Dimor would have answered something witty, but this was the moment where he finally found a loose strand in the spell-knot on his heart. He pulled it, felt it become loose, and the magic dispersed. Finally! 

He felt a shudder go through him as his magic was finally, _finally_ freed. It felt so good that he groaned, uncaring if the noise sounded sexual, the pleasure he felt was close to that anyway. He also felt incredibly happy. 

This is why he decided to ultimately show himself to be merciful. He tossed Eric to the side, throwing him to the ground with no other injury than the ones he might get from falling, and slumped on the couch with a sigh. He finally felt like himself again. He liked legs, but there was nothing that could come close to his dear old tail. He was so happy to see it back that he hugged it. 

Eric slowly stood up and backed away, still very pale. He flinched when Dimor turned to him.

"Where are you going now, dear Eric?" Dimor said. "Don't you want to stay with me?" 

He gulped. "You're scaring me." 

Dimor giggled uncontrollably. It felt so good to have his power back! 

"I thought I could _trust_ you," Eric added. There was hurt in his voice. 

This... didn't sit well with Dimor's feelings. Eric had been the one making the mistake. He had handed him the tools to free himself from his biding. He shouldn't be _accusing_ him. Dimor had done nothing wrong! He had no right to try and make him feel guilty over some trust he didn't even care about. Because he didn't care about Eric - at all! 

"Well, I didn't hurt you," Dimor said. He waved his hand dismissively. "Be happy that I listened to your begging."

"But you could-- You could strangle me in my sleep! Or worse." 

"Or worse? Like what?" Dimor laughed. "No, don't worry. I'm not interested in hurting you. Not _now_ at least. I don't think it would be a very fun game to play." 

"A _game_?" 

"Consider it as my thank you for this massage from before." 

Eric looked at him in shocked silence. And then he said, in a very low voice: 

"You're horrible." 

Dimor laughed, then winked. 


	19. The Respite

When Lola opened the door for him, she just stood there, staring at him quietly. Eric, uneasy, shifted from one foot to the other and adjusted his bag over his shoulder. In it was his computer, his phone, and whatever change of clothes he had managed to throw in it while Dimor wasn't looking. 

She gave out a painfully long sigh. 

"I _told_ you so," she said. 

"Well--" 

"I fucking _told_ you so, you absolute dingus." 

"I know--" 

"How long has it been?" she looked at her watch. "Okay, let's say it takes you twenty minutes to go home, so you gave it to him at four o'clock." 

"And I know--" 

"_Forty-five minutes_," she said, shoving her watch in his face and tapping it insistently. "Forty-five minutes before you came _running back_ because now Dimor is a problem, after having lived with him for eight months. You absolute _dingus_. You donkey. You baffoon." 

"Can I just--" 

"I'm not finished. Do you know how many times I was told not to trust a fairy when I grew up? How many stories I heard? But nooo, you know better because you've lived with one eight months and he would never, ever hurt you. You were so sure about it. You told me a thousand times that he was different because he had lived among humans for so long. _As if that didn't make him even more resentful towards humans?"_

She stopped. Pinched the bridge of her nose. And breathed deeply. Eric didn't feel as him piping up then would be taken well. 

"All right. Now tell me how many ribs he cracked," she said. 

"None." 

She gave him a surprised look. "Really? How about bruises?" 

"I didn't check but-- he didn't-- he didn't hurt me." 

"Didn't hurt you?" 

Eric shook his head. "I'm just scared he's waiting that I am asleep." 

"Huh. It went better than I expected." 

"Better? Lola, he told me that he tried to kill children in their sleep." 

She sighed. "I don't know why you are telling me this as if I am supposed to be surprised, Eric." 

"Children!" 

"Just... come inside," she said. "We can talk this through around a cup of tea-- Or coffee if you would like." 

"Coffee would be nice." 

She left him through the door and allowed him to step inside her home. He immediately noticed that she had already put out an extra mattress on the ground for him to sleep on, but didn't comment on it. 

"He wouldn't have killed you," said Lola from the kitchen as she prepared their drinks. "He needs you to stay alive, otherwise his heart will just be handed out to the next guy that will inherit it. You're too young to have written a will, so I'm guessing it might go to your parents or your siblings." 

"Oh gosh," Eric said. He imagined his poor mother having to deal with Dimor and his newly found magical powers. He would rather free the creature before that happened. He sat down at the table.

"I'm still surprised that he didn't hurt you, though," she continued. "Fairies are not known for their ability to forgive an affront, especially greater fairies - unless, of course, you are a fairy that has even more power than them. But you are not, and you've been restraining him against his will. Anyone else would have come out of this situation with at least a few broken bones." 

"But he's-- He's _terrifying_. He's at least twenty meters long, and he could hold me down like a child. And he got fangs now. And there's also... I don't know how to describe him, but it's like there's something sharp about him now."

"That's his aura." 

"And he did something to his heart, too. Pulled it out, waved his hand above it, and talked about how he was restrained by some spell by the witch that caught him." 

Lola stared at him blankly. 

"Did... did I say something wrong?" Eric asked. 

"You never told me he was first caught by a witch." 

"I... I didn't? I mean, it probably skipped my mind..." 

"Can I see his heart?" 

Eric rose his hand to his chest protectively. She rolled her eyes. 

"I'm not going to take it. Trust me. The last thing I want is to be stuck with Dimor." 

Eric pulled it out of his shirt hesitantly. She leaned in to take a closer look, then poked it with a finger. 

"Oh yeah," she said. "I can feel some traces of a binding, although it's broken. Powerful stuff." 

"Can you mend it?" 

"Mend?" She snorted. "Honey, this is beyond mending. This is full-on redoing the entire thing, and I don't have the power for that." 

"Why not? You're good at spells. You told me yourself. You studied magic as a scientist and a witch for years, you know how it works. Didn't you tell me that if you couldn't make our project work, no one could?" 

"Yeah, I did. And I'm still the best for the job." She leaned back and crossed her arms. "But we're talking in terms of raw power here. From what I can tell by looking at him, Dimor's four to five hundred years. Back in Erbothia, he would be near the top of the food chain, have his own domains, and probably half a dozen human servants, on top of a hord of fairies seeing to his every desire. It's not a tiny twenty-eight-year-old witch that's going to subdue him." 

"But he was subdued before." 

"When he was a lot younger, yeah. And not by a single human. Can I?" She reached for the heart. 

"Yeah, go ahead." 

She took it off him and presented it to who Eric assumed was Loak, standing on the table in all his glorious invisibility. She seemed to listen to what he said, then gave back the heart to its owner. 

"Loak said there was a demon involved," she said. "I was right." 

"A demon? They are real too?" 

"Oh yeah, very real. And I don't care how much you pay me, I'm not going to mingle with any of them if I can help it. I'm guessing that she must have been desperate to call on one." 

"He threatened her children if she didn't free him." 

"Yeah, I can see why she did it. But you'll understand that I won't do the same as long as I don't have kids to save." 

Eric sighed and held his head between his hands, looking at the table.

"I fucked up," he said. 

"Yep." 

"I'm sorry. I-- I really should have told you before doing all this, and maybe you would have worked harder to stop me, but-- Well, I'm in love with him." 

"Oh, trust me, I know. It's obvious." 

He looked up at her. "Really?" 

"Yes. How much you want to please him is a dead giveaway." 

"Oh-- Oh, well, on the bright side, at least I didn't confess." 

Lola looked to the side and pushed her lips.

"What did I say now?" Eric asked. 

"He probably knows anyway. With how you literally handed him the last thing that was in your interest to hand him over all starry-eyed." 

"I wasn't... _starry-eyed_."

She rose her brows. 

"Was I?" 

"You very much were when you left to go give the pendant to him." 

"Oh god." 

"Yep." She clicked her tongue. "Yeep." 

"This can't get worse." 

Right on cue, Eric's phone rang. Looking at the caller's name only confirmed what he already knew. He took the call. 

"Eric?" Dimor purred on the other end. 

Eric swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. 

"See, I can figure out how to use a phone when I need it," Dimor continued. "Where are you? You left without even saying goodbye. I miss you, and I'm going to miss my dinner." 

Lola gestured at Eric that he needed to put the call on speakers. He obeyed and laid it on the table. 

"I mean, if you came back, I guess that would be two birds with one stone." Dimor laughed, and that was one of the most chilling sounds Eric had heard in his life. "I'm just kidding. I wouldn't eat you. Not as long as there is fish as an alternative." 

Lola rolled her eyes, unimpressed. Eric, on the other hand, was terrified. 

"This conversation is very one-sided," Dimor said. "Eric? Are you there?" 

"Yeah, I am." 

"Ah-- I thought the cat ate your tongue. Or a sphinx. You're at Lola's, right?" 

"No," he said in a panic. 

Dimor hummed. "You're lying. Today, I learned that tracking spells work through electronic devices. Also, tell her that I don't appreciate her listening in on our private conversation." 

Lola slapped Eric's hand when he reached for the phone. "I'm not leaving you alone with him, not even in a call." 

"Pft. How rude. What do you think I can get from him at this point? He already messed up." 

"I don't know. What do you want from him?" 

"Dinner. I don't know how to cook. Not on those modern machines at least." 

"Anything else?" 

There was a silence, but eventually Dimor couldn't resist telling the truth. "And I want him here. I'm not done playing with him and he escaped." 

"Then he's not coming back."

"I have to," Eric said. "I need to make sure he's well-fed." 

She gave him the stink eye. "No, you don't, Eric. That's what he wants. You don't know what he could do to you. He can feed himself." 

"I _have_ to. Otherwise, I might get bad luck from his heart. I got to be the one that takes care of him." 

"I'm so pleased to see that you perfectly understand the deep connection between us, Eric," Dimor purred. "You feed me and I feed you back. Come back." Dimor's voice dipped into seductive lows and Eric shuddered - and it wasn't from fear. "Come to me, little fishie. Come and play. I miss you." 

"Eric, it's not worth it," Lola said. "Stay here. Bad luck doesn't make it worth it." 

"Is it really?" Dimor said. "Your little pet project is very vulnerable at the moment. Like a little sprout. A single bad day could crush it." 

"Well, I'd rather lose it all than send him back, and he thinks the same. Right, Eric?" 

Eric didn't reply. 

"Oh... I don't think Eric shares the sentiment," said Dimor. "You don't know him as well as I do, Lola. He loves money." And then he added, lower, but loud enough to be heard. "And me." 

"I'm going back," Eric said. 

"Fuckssake, Eric," Lola said. "_Don't_." 

"Dimor, you have to promise me you won't hurt me." 

"Physically?" Dimor clicked his tongue. "I can promise that." 

"I give up on you," Lola said. She leaned back on her chair. "Fine. Go throw yourself in the snake's maw."

"Dragon's maw--" 

"I try to help you, and what do I get? I'm ignored," Lola continued, interrupting Dimor. "I'm done. You are made for one another - one to trick, the other to fall for it. So just go! I don't care. As long as you don't outright die, I'll be fine." 

"I'm sorry, Lola--" 

"Well, I'll be waiting for you, then," said Dimor. "Don't make me wait too long. I'm starting to get hungry." And he hung up. 

Lola gave Eric a stern look. Eric looked at anything but her face, but that didn't stop him from feeling bad. 

After a while, she sighed and shook her head. "You're an idiot." 

"I know." 

She stood up. "I guess you won't be having your coffee now."

"No. But thank you for proposing anyway." 

She turned around to face him, armed crossed. 

"That's usually the part of the story where I give you some magical item to help in your quest against the big bad monster," she said. "You know, as the witch and supporting female character. I always wondered why she didn't go and fight the monster herself if the situation was this dire, but that's beside the point. It's not to go against the stereotype that I won't give you anything, it's genuinely because I have nothing that can help you against him." 

"Well, it's the intention that counts," Eric said with a tight smile. 

"I'm not sure you deserve it, but my thoughts will be with you at least." 

"Thanks." Eric stood up. "I should be leaving soon. Can I leave my stuff here for when I'll come back?" 

"Take your phone. If you're not back by eight, should I start worrying about you?" 

"Please." Beat. "I don't know who else but you I can trust with it." 

"I don't know what you expect from me. I can't even jump in all guns blazing. I might not have a kid, but I got Loak to take care of." 

"I'll be... all right." He rubbed the back of his head. "Maybe I can negotiate with him." 

"I hope for you that he's open to that." 

"Yeah." 

He pocketed his phone and headed for the door. She went with him and opened the door for him. 

"Oh, and by the way, in case you haven't already figured that yourself..." 

"Hmm?" 

"Don't give his heart back. No matter what you do. If he gets his hands on it..." 

She breathed in deeply, preparing herself for her next sentence. 

"He'll have no reason to keep you alive." 

Eric nodded. Yet, no matter how naive that might sound, he didn't quite believe that. 


	20. Coil Growing Tighter

Eric didn't take any chances: he went to buy sushi. A lot of it. 

Yet, when he stood in front of the door of his own home, he couldn't help but feel a slow terror take hold of him, of the tyle that paralyzed him and quickened his breathing. He that is why he took a few moments to calm down, even if only started stronger when he fitted his key in the hole and unlocked it for him to enter. 

The first thing that greeted him was the sound of the television in the living room. That was why he assumed that Dimor was in there, even if he didn't spot his head over the backrest of the couch; he could have been laying down. For a second, Eric even believed that his entrance might have gone unnoticed, offering him a few more moments of respite. 

He couldn't have been more wrong. 

But he only realized it when the door closed behind him without him touching it, making him turned around. That's when he saw that Dimor had been standing behind it, waiting for him, in his human form, arms crossed. 

Eric took a step back. Dimor followed with three steps forward, until he was all but pressed against Eric's front. 

"Well, well, you're back," he said. "I thought you had all but abandoned me." 

"I-- I got sushi," Eric said. "I hope you like it." 

"I can smell that." Dimor poked his tongue out; it was longer and thinner than what Eric remembered it to be, less human but still not fully snake. "How thoughtful of you. Are we celebrating the return of my powers?" 

"Oh-- Erm, yeah, we are." 

"How thoughtful of you!" Dimor reached for the bag. He leaned forward for that, and his front pressed every so slightly against Eric; the contact felt electric. "So thoughtful that I almost might suspect that you want something from me, but surely you are above that." 

Having snatched the bag, Dimor turned around, his hair spinning in his wake. He left a wonderful smell behind him and a cool impression on Eric's chest, like a negative. The latter closed his eyes, cursing himself. He was pathetic. So painfully attracted to someone he couldn't have, now even less than before. He had thought Dimor regaining some of his powers might put them both on equal footing. But this... this was a reversal of their situations. 

Dimor was looking through the various orders Eric had picked - all food he pounced on each time they went for sushi takeaway - and was lining them up on the table. 

"So much," he said. "You went all out for lil' old me?" 

"If you don't eat everything, we can keep it in the fridge in case you get hungry..." 

"Oh, that's why you bought some extra. Are you sure that it's not for keeping me from eating something else?" 

Dimor flashed a smile. His canines were more prominent, almost fangs, and gave a sinister vibe to his entire face. 

"You wouldn't..." Eric swallowed his saliva. "You wouldn't eat me. Right?" 

This made the other laugh. "Oh, no. You're being so nice with me now, why would I eat you? I would have to be stupid to do that. And if I do, who else will make sure I'm taken care of? Not that Lola woman, that's for sure. She was awfully rude to me on the phone. If she wasn't your business partner, I would demand that you cut contact with her entirely, but I think that you're already a bit too involved with her for that now. Which is a shame." 

"Please excuse her."

"Why do you tell me that? I won't be blaming you for her behaviour." 

Dimor sat down. He was toying with Eric, putting on an act, and it was almost painful to see how smug he felt about it as he did it. They both knew who had the power between the two of them. Even if it was Eric that owned Dimor, Dimor was the one that needed to be danced around. 

Was this the way it was going to be now? Forever? If that was the case, he better take care of the project he had with Lola, whatever it might be, so that he could get rid of Dimor as quickly as possible. And how would he even get rid of him? The moment Dimor would have heart back, he would be free to strike Eric as he pleased-- 

And that was a terrifying perspective on its own. 

"Are you going to eat something as well?" Dimor asked. "You're not going to leave me on my own now, are you? You're going to make me feel like the odd one out." 

"Oh, well, I was thinking that I could cook my own meal." Eric didn't even know if he would have the willpower to force any food down his throat when seated at the same table than a dangerous fairy. "Just something simple. Maybe noodles." 

"Well, get to it." Dimor had already taken out the wooden chopsticks offered with the meal and waved them towards the kitchen as he said that. "It all smells delicious and I don't want to wait too long."

"Yeah--" 

Eric didn't run to the kitchen, but he did walk a little quicker than necessary. He heard Dimor chuckle behind him. He couldn't help the fact that he was on edge - and the vouivre seemed to enjoy that more than he should. 

Eric went through the fridge, then the cabinets, and then finally remembered that he had said that he would eat noddles when he found them. He was distracted by the feeling of eyes on him, Dimor's eyes, watching his every move. He put some water to heat, put too much food in the pot, then decided he didn't have the patience at the moment to put some of it back. And then he went on to decide what sauce he wanted with all of that; it was at that moment that he got distracted and stopped paying attention to Dimor and what was sneaking on him. 

He was suddenly grabbed with the waist by something thick, flexible and warm. He screamed when he felt his feet leave the ground, and screamed again when he was twisted upside down to face Dimor in his monster form. He had snuck up on him from behind to catch him and looked extremely pleased with himself. 

Dimor poked his catch's cheek with his chopsticks. "Modern humans are less carful than what they used to be," he said. "Maybe your senses dulled from being in a comfortable society."

Eric swallowed - a task made difficult by the fact that he had to fight against gravity. "Please put my down, Dimor. I need to cook." 

"Eh. There's nothing on the heat now," he answered, and turned off the water heater. "I'm not that hungry, so I think that I am going to have a little fun with you now." 

"But... But I'm hungry." 

Dimor pretended as if Eric had never said that and carried him to the living room, where he flopped down on a couch so that he could look up at his prey comfortably. He couldn't look smugger than when he looked up, and Eric just knew that he had some sort of plan. But what? 

"I haven't used some spells in forever," the vouivre said. He waved his hands around, lightly, as someone would stretch before doing some acrobatics. "I could try mind-reading. Or a charm." 

Eric gulped. "Please don't cast a spell on me." 

"Why not? Those are not painful. I'm not going to harm you - physically." 

Despite being upside down, Eric felt the blood drain from his face. When Dimor had made that promise, he had not accounted for the fact that the other had spells that could mess with his mind, probably. And Eric really didn't want to find out what happened when he was charmed.

Luckily, he wasn't about to find out, for the phone tucked in the back pocket of his pants started to ring. The problem was that, with his arms firmly held along his body, he couldn't reach for it. Not that Dimor would have let him do that. 

Dimor smiled lazily, then reached out his hand. 

"_Come_," he said.

Eric found his breath taken, partly from surprise and partly from the impact the word had. He had never felt a sound that had weight behind it as this one had; it reminded him a bit of the shock wave an explosion could have, on a smaller scale. 

He felt his phone slip out of his pocket and pass under his clothes, and came out of his collar, from which is simply dropped in Dimor's hand. The latter rosed it and read the name on the screen. From his face, it was Lola calling. 

"_Silence, lamb_," he said. Again with the magic. Eric felt something lock up in his throat, even if his ability to breathe was unhindered. 

Dimor took the call on speaker. 

"Helloooo," he said. "Dimor on the line, the one and only." 

"You certainly sound like you are in a better mood after you got a toy to play with." It was indeed Lola, and she didn't mean that as a compliment. "Where's Eric?" 

"He's right in front of me." 

"Can I talk to him?" 

"Yes." 

Silence. 

"Eric?" she called. 

Eric did try to answer, but the only thing that came out was a stream of air. His vocal cords refused to obey. He didn't let that stop him, so instead he clicked his tongue and started to whistle.

"Dimor," said Lola, "Take off the muting spell on him." 

Dimor sighed and waved his hand, dismissing the magic. 

"Lola?" Eric said. 

"Eric! Are you all right?" 

"I'm..." Eric struggled in Dimor's coils, just enough if he would know if he had any broken bones yet. "I'm all right. A little tight." 

"He's holding you, is he? Can't get away?" 

"Yeah." 

"What else? Did he cast any curse on you?" 

"That's a good idea," Dimor said. 

"I--" Eric thought about it. Had Dimor done that? Maybe when Eric wasn't looking? "I don't know." 

"You would if he had. They are sort of hard to miss. Big scary words and he starts to look really scary." 

"Ah-- well he didn't do that." 

"One of my favourite curses is to make a slug come out of the target's nose when they sneeze," interrupted Dimor. "_Very_ entertaining. I've heard that the feeling is absolutely repulsive." 

"Please don't," Eric said. 

"I won't. I would use my favourite curse of all time on you, not the second or third one." Dimor winked. "Only the best for the owner of my heart. And I'm not telling you what it is." 

"Well, since we're talking curses, _my_ favourite curse is an itching curse," Lola said. "Especially on scaly creatures, because it affects the layer beneath them and not the one on top. If you cast one more spell on Eric I promise you that I'll cast it on you without a second thought." 

"You are in no position to threaten me, lamb," Dimor spat. He had gone from playful to annoyed in moments. "I'll keep my promise." 

"You didn't include spells in your promise and you know it. So I just want to make sure that you think twice about what you are about to do next because I just had an intuition that it wasn't going to be pretty if I didn't call right that instant." 

Dimor didn't look too happy about being scowled: he narrowed his eyes, until all that was visible from them were bright crescents between thick lashes. It was a look that burned Eric, even if it wasn't directed at him, but Lola wasn't here to be on the receiving end of it. He really disliked her.

"Fine," Dimor said. "I'll leave him alone in that regard. Is there anything else you want to say?" 

"I would have wanted to talk to Eric privately--" 

Dimor hung up right then, and Eric never knew what she was about to say. Not that it should be his biggest concern at the time. Dimor looked rather annoyed. 

"This is no fun," he muttered. "Go back to your cooking, lamb. I guess I'll have to wait for her to look somewhere else before we can have some time alone." He smiled. "Although that means I'll only have more time to think about the best way to torment you. So that's something you can look forward to, hmm?" 

Eric was put down when he didn't answer, and he quickly moved out of the way. He was not done dealing with his tyrant, but at least he had escaped whatever Dimor had been about to do with him.

He needed to escape as soon as possible. 


	21. Through the Night

Eric tip-toed past Dimor's room. He could have checked if the latter was asleep by simply poking his head through the doorway, but he didn't want to be taking any more risks than necessary; not when he was making his daring escape. 

He had already tried to leave in the evening. However, the moment he approached the door, Dimor called out to him, and he had to pretend that he was looking for something in the hallway. He could tell that the other had not been fooled by his weak excuse, but at least he didn't punish him for the attempt, for which Eric was grateful. Dimor was an early sleeper, yet waiting for him to leave seemed to take forever. Eric had had all the trouble in the world hiding his fidgety he was becoming. 

He had barely taken anything with him, save for his keys and his phone. He knew that Lola would be ready to take him in for the night. If he got to her, he was safe, until tomorrow morning at least. The more time he spent away from Dimor, the better, for both his bodily safety and his sanity. 

Because... well, Dimor might be a monster now, pure and simple, but he could at least change his appearance accordingly. It was like a cruel joke. When he looked Eric like he was calculating whether or not he should eat him with pepper or curry, the human felt his heart quicken in excitement. And if that wasn't bad news, he didn't know what was. The part of his brain that wasn't melting every time Dimor cast one of his sharp long-lashed glances was screaming at him that he had to get away before either Dimor or he would do something disastrous. 

So he was leaving. Plain and simple. His ground was not the type that cracked and groaned when stepped on, so he had a reasonable chance of making it to the front door without being noticed. 

Or so he thought. 

He pushed down on the door handle, expecting it to open for him. However, when he put his weight against it, it didn't budge. He wondered if the wood was blocked or stuck in some way because that was usually how it worked. So he swung some weight on it, once, firmly. The door shook loudly but didn't budge. 

Eric stilled, his heart beating fast, listening out for any sign that the noise had alerted Dimor. 

Silence.

He felt himself slowly relax as he realized that he had somehow not messed it up. It was probably locked and he had not realized it - it was entirely plausible that Dimor had cast some sort of spell on it to do so. A good thing he had the key for it. He pulled it out and put in in the keyhole, and turned. It didn't move. 

And when he tried to pull his hand away, it didn't move either. 

The thing was so absurd that it took Eric a few moments to recognize that it wasn't a fluke, but that his hand was stuck to the key, that was stuck in its hole. When he had pulled enough, when the realization hit him, he chuckled nervously. It couldn't be happening. 

"And where do you think you are going, Eric?" Dimor asked in a sweet voice. 

Eric turned around. Dimor, that had moved without making a single sound, was standing in the hallway in front of his room's door, his arms crossed and with a smug look on his face. He snapped his fingers and the lights came on. 

"You _really_ think that I wouldn't expect you to do that?" he asked. "Do you think that I am an idiot?" 

"I didn't mean it," Eric said. "I'm sorry." 

Dimor narrowed his eyes. Eric understood that he should have remained quiet. 

"Didn't mean what, Eric? Leaving me? Or didn't mean to keep me against my will for so long? Because if that is the case, you are a _liar_, and if there is one thing that I hate - that all fairies hate - it's liars. So, what is it, Eric? Chose wisely." 

Eric didn't reply, knowing any word he would say was a risk he wasn't willing to take. 

"You remain silent, now?" Dimor said. "A wiser choice than what I expected from you. Very well. Secrets it is. But you still owe me an apology." 

"An _apology_?" Eric couldn't contain his astonishment. For what? Surely the other was joking now. 

Eric realized he very much wasn't when he narrowed his eyes at him. 

"You really got no idea how things work, do you? You wrong me, and you wounded my feelings by trying to leave bahind my back. It's as if you don't want to enjoy the _privilege_ of my company, now that I am finally my full self. I thought..." he smiled smugly. "I thought you wanted to get to know me, hmm? Wasn't that what you said? That you wanted to spend some time with me? And then you leave me like that - surely to go to Lola's place. What does that girl have that I don't?" 

He leaned in at Eric's level. He was suddenly a lot closed than what the human was comfortable with. Eric leaned away in discomfort. And there was smug look on his face that made the human both wary and weak. His shirt was even dropping - don't look, told himself Eric, in vain - low enough that he could see down his chest. It might now have been anything he had not see before, but there was always something so tantalizing about such a view. 

"I thought you were more into men, Eric," Dimor said. "Don't tell me you've been hiding from me that you go both ways? Not that I mind. I'm sure that we can find some arrangements if this is the case." 

Those words were meant to fluster him, Eric knew - it was some sort of power play, another that Dimor seemed to enjoy more than he shoudl. And yet, Eric fell for it. He felt his face burn as he shuffled away from Dimor's proximity,

"That's what I thought," Dimor said as he leaned back. 

"What?" 

"You know what I mean." 

Eric looked down. He knew what he meant. Dimor had played and had won again, and now Eric felt embarrassed that he was so obvious about his attraction. Stupid, stupid him. 

"I still expect an apology," Dimor said. 

"An-- An apology." There was nothing that Eric wanted to tell him more than that Dimor should be the one apologizing, not the other way around. However, now that wouldn't be taken terribly well, he knew. So he went the safe way. "I'm sorry I tried to escape me after you threatened to curse me." 

"Hmpf. You still have some progress to make in the apology department, that wasn't really heartfelt." Dimor shugged. "But it's late at night, and I am tired, so I am going to accept that. Bear in mind that I have time to instruct you on the subject later, so don't think that I will drop the matter." 

"Yeah," Eric said. "I agree that we better head off to bed." 

"To bed? You mean, you want to go back to your bed?" 

Eric opened his mouth to say that yes, that was the plan, but something about the way Dimor asked threw him off guard. He knew that something was coming before Dimor even started to grin as another of his plan to torment Eric came to fruition. 

"You won't be sleeping in any bed tonight, but the floor. That's all you deserve anyway." 

"I--" Eric bit his lip before he said something he would regret. 

Dimor laughed and twisted his tail in Eric's direction. Before he knew it, he was caught and dragged on the ground behind Dimor, his hand conveniently free from the hold of his key. He struggled against the other's hold out of genuine discomfort: his skin would rub on the carpet when his clothes slipped out of place, burning his skin from the friction. 

Dimor ignored him when he flopped down on his bed. Now that he was a giant snake man, it was way too small for him, supporting only his upper human body and but a fraction of his tail. It didn't look too comfortable, truth be told, but Eric wasn't in a position to pity him. 

Eric remained on the floor, with the tail. It didn't take him long to realize that Dimor fully intended to hold him like that, and the position wasn't terribly comfortable. It wasn't even helped by the fact that it was Dimor holding him - Eric wasn't all that hot about snakes. It would be a lot better if Dimor was holding him in his arms but, of course, that wasn't going to happen. 

"I would have cast a spell to make you keep still," Dimor said. He was propped up on his elbow on the bed, looking down at the human - as usual. "But a certain someone forbade me from doing that. You would agree that it would be a lot better if that was the case, hmm?" 

Eric didn't answer. He didn't want to get a mouthful of dust from the carpet. At least he had vacuumed recently, so he was sure that it wasn't too bad. 

"It would be more fun if you answered me, sometimes," Dimor grumbled. "But again, it's late. I think we can both agree that I need my beauty sleep. Don't talk to me unless it's really urgent. Good night." 

Dimor turned around and pulled the blanket over him, seemingly going to sleep almost instantly. Eric, stuck as he was, spent many hours waiting for Morpheus' blessing in vain. 

It did eventually come to him but snuck on him so stealthily that he didn't know it until he woke up in Dimor's bed with no memory of having been dragged there. Eric would most certainly have remembered the moment where Dimor dragged him right into his arms if he had been awake. 

The realisation of his predicament made him still like a deer caught in headlights, but he soon realized that his tormentor was still fast asleep. Eric was the little spoon, his face pressed against the vouivre's chest, but he could tell that he was out of danger - for now - from the slow breathing of the other. 

Eric thought that the situation could be worse. At least he didn't need to go to the toilet, which was a blessing at the moment. And he would be lying to himself if he said that he had never dreamed of waking up in the arms of the vouivre to whom he was insanely attracted to. He smelled nice, and his hold now was a lot kinder than the one he had last night. Dimor's tail was still wrapped around his legs though, but that was more comfortable than unpleasant. 

Maybe he could catch a few more moments of sleep if he closed his eyes. 

Of course, now that he was safe and so close to Dimor, his brain wasn't going to let that one slide so easily. He couldn't focus on anything but the contact of Dimor's body, that was, by the way, pressed as tightly as it could be against him. In particular, he marvelled that he could feel no bulge from any sort of organ at the bottom of Dimor's chest. Snakes kept their dicks in some sort of pocket, right? 

Probably. Eric most certainly wouldn't want to live his life slithering on his own dick. That sounded painful. 

Dimor smelled very nice either way. He was a little cold, especially if one could compare him to a human, but in the same way the blanket over them could be cold. Eric wouldn't find himself shivering in his hold any time soon. 

Time came and went. Eric knew that there was a clock on the nightstand behind him, but he didn't dare turn around to look at it. Instead, he tried to estimate the time based on the sun that peered through the binds, remembered that he was terrible at that, and gave up. He didn't have anywhere to be today. His only social obligation was to give Lola a call to tell her that he was fine. 

He was just falling back asleep from staying so still so long when Dimor stirred. He groaned, some coils slipped from the ground to the bed, and Eric quickly realizing that Dimor was somehow holding him even tighter. Fearing that he might get accidentally crushed if he didn't manifest himself, Eric struggled against the other but only got held tighter in response. 

"... warm," muttered the vouivre. 

Eric remembered, quietly horrified, how tightly Dimor held his water bottles in the morning. He was suddenly very aware of the power that laid dormant in Dimor's coils; the power to crush bones, even accidentally. He was fucked. 

And it more ways than the bad one, it seemed. Dimor, eyes still closed, rolled on his back with Eric on top, his tail slipping between his legs to part them and up against his crotch. Eric grunted in surprise, but it was not finished: Dimor's hand grabbed his ass, nails digging in the flesh. 

"Hey!" Eric cried. "No. Stop!" 

Dimor's eyes opened and he frowned at Eric. He seemed surprised to see him and had that glazed look he always had in the morning. When what he was doing finally clicked, he snapped his hand away and a flash of horror appeared on his face. 

"I was-- It's your smell," he said. 

"My smell?" repeated Eric, astonished. 

Something in his tone really didn't please Dimor, because he was frowning again - and this time he was mad. 

"Out," he said. "Now!" 

"I'm trying!" Eric replied as he tried his best to untangle himself from both the sheets and the vouivre's tail without said vouivre helping. 

Dimor took the matter in his own hands. Grabbing Eric by the waist, he tossed him at the door. Thankfully, as he was still rather sleepy, the toss wasn't as powerful as it could have been and Eric ended up making an awkward roll across the carpet. The human didn't wait any longer. The moment he was free, he rushed through the door. 

It slammed behind him. 

Eric looked over his shoulder, to check if he was safe, before quickly walking to the living room. His limbs, now that they were required to move, were full of sores from having slept in a strange position. 

He dropped himself on the couch with a deep sigh. Today was going to be a long day. 


	22. Pouting Dimor

Eric wondered if Dimor still needed hot water bottles in the morning, but he figured that now wasn't a good time to ask. He just made one, and as he waited for the water to boil he considered calling Lola, but he found that his thoughts were going back to what had just happened instead. 

Especially since Dimor's reaction to him had been so obviously sexual. His brain wouldn't let go of the image of him pressing himself against him, grabbing him, being so pliant. It obsessed him. He wished for it to have gone longer than it had. If he had not reacted, what would have happened next? 

He shook his head, disgusted with himself. Dimor had not even been aware of his actions at the time, and here he was, hoping he had been given the occasion to abuse it further. He should be _glad_ nothing more had happened, and glad that he wasn't given any more material to fantasize about - as if he wasn't attracted to Dimor enough! 

Weird how it only had been less than twenty-four hours since he had given Dimor that cursed pendant, thought Eric as he filled the water bottle with hot water. It felt like so much had happened since then. 

He knocked at Dimor's door, then again when he didn't get a response. A grunt answered him. 

"I got a bottle for you," Eric said. 

The door opened and it slipped out of his hands, pulled inside by magic. So he still needed to warm in the morning, at least - he didn't do that magically, for some reason. Or maybe he could, but a warm bottle was still nice. Whatever may be the case, Eric didn't see Dimor at all, and couldn't confirm any of his theories. Not that they mattered. 

Time to do some breakfast, since he didn't have anything else to do. 

He usually heard Dimor head to the shower shortly after, but that morning was the exception to the rule. Which was strange, because Dimor was capable of committing murder for a hot shower. Yet Eric didn't think much of it until he realized that Dimor's coffee was going to cool if it stayed untouched on the table any longer. Willing himself to be courageous just this once, he picked it up and brought it over to his room on a tray.

"Dimor?" he asked. 

No answer. 

"I got your coffee. Will you be using the bathroom soon?" 

"Go away." 

The answer puzzled the human. At first, he wasn't sure if he had heard. 

"Dimor?" 

"I'm not feeling well," he said. "Now leave." 

"Not feeling well? Dimor, are you sick?" 

"Leave!" 

Eric had to this time, Dimor sounded rather annoyed. But he couldn't help but worry. If Dimor was really sick, he needed to find a way to cure him, and fast. He couldn't bring him to the doctor if things came to worse. Not just because the doctor wouldn't be able to see him, but also because he might hurt the doctor themselves. That wouldn't do. 

Eric called the only person he still hoped could help in this situation: Lola. 

"Hi, Eric. How was the night?" 

"Eventful-- but listen, I'm calling for something else?" 

"Something else than the snake fairy hellbent on making your life hell?" There was a touch of amusement in her voice. 

"Well, yes, but no. I think he's sick." 

"Sick?" She slurped on something - probably tea. "I doubt it. Are you sure he's not playing some sort of trick on you?"

"He's in his room and wouldn't come out. He doesn't even want his coffee." 

"All right - Eric, think of what he said. Can you repeat it word for word?" 

"He said... He's not feeling well." 

"Are those the exact terms he used?" 

"Yeah." 

"That doesn't necessarily mean that he's sick. He didn't say that he's sick, and he's probably not sick. Did something happen?"

"No," Eric lied. "I got up this morning and I left his room to prepare breakfast and I didn't say a single word to him."

"What were you doing in his room?" 

"I-- He put me there! When I tried to escape last night, he punished me by making me sleep on the ground. But then I didn't do anything when I woke up, I just got up, walked away, and didn't say anything to him." 

Lola sighed. "Look, Eric, we're good friends. I'm willing to help as much as I can in this situation _you_ put yourself in - not me, I tried to stop you - but if you're going to be lying to me I really--"

"I'm not lying--" 

"I'm really going to call quits really fast. So tell me, did something happen that you are not willing to tell me? Because if there is, there, that's the reason he's pouting." 

"He's _pouting_?" 

"Yeah. I'm not there so I can't tell for sure, but he probably used the word feeling literally here. Now, if it's not an emergency, can I have my breakfast in peace?" 

"Ah-- Erm, yes, of course." Eric felt embarrassed that he had called now. It felt like he should have dealt with the problem on his own. He promised himself that he wouldn't panic this easily next time. "Sorry for the inconvenience."

"You're excused. Just bear in mind that dragons rarely get sick. Dimor is just dramatic." 

"That's good to know." 

She ended the call after that. Eric stared at his phone screen, but his thoughts were somewhere else. She had helped to clarify the situation, but he didn't really know what to do now. Should he apologise to Dimor? Considering how enamoured Dimor was with making him do that with no reason since last night, there were good chances that this was what he was supposed to do--

On second thought, "sorry for tempting you into groping me by letting you drag me into your bed" didn't sound like it would please Dimor. Eric didn't really have any other ideas, so he dropped this one and went for the next best thing: pretend that nothing happened until a better solution presented itself to him.

He sighed and massaged his temples. Why was Dimor even... pouting? It's not like he was the one that was grabbed. Really, the man had some galls to react like that when he was the one that had been in the wrong. Couldn't he just... act like a normal person, for once? 

Eric ate his breakfast alone and browsed social media on his phone so that he wouldn't think of his current predicament for five minutes. Should he go and visit Lola at some point today? He had left his stuff at her place. Dimor wouldn't be happy about that, but it would be rude to let her keep his bag and his clothes. And if he managed to go there without the vouivre, he could catch a breather, and that would be more than welcome right now. 

He didn't expect a phone call from a number he didn't know. 

He picked it up, half expecting it to be a spam call.

"Hello?" said a male voice he didn't recognize. "Do I have mister Eric Blanchefleur on the line?" 

"Yes?" answered Eric warily. "That's me." 

"Oh, splendid. I was calling after I've heard of what you were planning with Spencer. I hope you don't mind my call, but I simply had to get in contact with you." 

With that last sentence, Eric became certain of two things: one, that it wasn't a spam call and, second, that the man somehow knew of his project with Lola. That was a surprise to be sure; he wasn't quite as sure if it was a pleasant one or not. He listened carefully to what he said after that, not only to his words but also to the tone of his voice. There was uncanny confidence emanating from the latter, each word spoken with the assurance and clarity of a comedian that knew his text to the dot. Eric wanted to listen to the stranger speak, even if he didn't know him.

"However, do enlighten me on the subject," he added. "I'm not calling at a bad time? I would hate to have awakened you." 

Eric glanced at the kitchen clock. It was eight-thirty on the dot. He was usually awake at that time, with or without mood vouivre troubles messing with his timings.

"No, you are not disturbing at all," Eric answered. "I just don't think that I caught your name. Do I know you from somewhere?" 

"Ah, yes, I didn't present myself yet. My name is Eng Nashat. Please call me Eng." 

"Eng? Where does it come from?" 

"My mother named me that." 

Eric wondered if he had offended Eng by asking a question he shouldn't have. "Are you a friend of Lola's?" 

"Oh no. More like a friend of a friend. He mentioned you in a conversation in passing, and I must confess that I was very interested in your endeavour. I would like to join you. I think that my skill will be crucial for the sustainability of your project."

"Oh? And what are those skills?"

"Well, I have a lot of experience in management, but where I truly excel is as a negotiator. Some would call me a bit of a businessman." He laughed as if the idea was an amusing one. "If I were to describe myself, it would be as an expert in tricky situations with a knack for helping run a company. A large company. I can send you some credentials over email if you wish to take a look at my resume." 

"Wait-- I think you're being mistaken. We're nothing at the moment, we don't even have an office. In fact, I don't even know how you heard of us or got my number--" 

"I'm not mistaken. And I think that you are the one that doesn't understand." 

"Excuse me?"

"You are threading into a little-exploited venue. Something that's been attempted before many times, but that has always failed. I have reasons to believe that you are the right people at the right time, so I will help you. And I must make one thing very clear: you need me. Oh, I believe that you'll manage without me just fine, but with me... Well, let's just say that the ride will be a lot less bumpy for you. Or any of the friends you decide to take along." 

Suddenly, Eric realized he could have not just anyone, but anything on the other end of the phone. His first thought was for the creature that Dimor had mentioned several times already, the ones that had every interest in keeping the society as a whole in the dark about supernatural creatures. That rose a lot of red flags. 

"What do you want, Eng?" he asked. 

"Me?" He laughed. "Oh, I'm not the one you should be wary of, Eric, really. I believe that you and I have a lot more in common than what you might suspect. For example... you like money, correct?" 

That was an odd question to ask, one that wasn't asked often - because one wasn't supposed to answer yes. "It depends." 

"You do. And I like money too. All you need to know is that I am willing to take care of your problems if you pay me well." 

"I... I need to think about it." 

"Please do. But don't take too long to decide. They are already watching you."

"Who?"

Eng laughed. "I'll give you my work email. Do you have paper around? Go get it."

Eric obeyed, and moments later he had written it down. 

"If you try to call me and I don't reply over the next few days, please do contact me through this email," Eng said. "Think wisely." 

Eng hung up before Eric could respond. The latter stared at his phone, not really knowing what to make of this proposal. 


	23. Leap of Faith

It was soon lunchtime, and Dimor had still not come out of his room. Eric was starting to move from worried to mildly annoyed. What a drama queen, really. The more time the vouivre spent prostrated in his room, the worse he made himself look. Not that Eric... really minded... being butt-grabbed by him. Dimor's reaction was strange, and might make one draw the wrong conclusions. 

Or were they really wrong?

With the other out of the picture for a while, Eric had the leisure of getting some work done. And, without having the threat of Dimor breathing down his neck, his thoughts were clearer than what they had been in a while. 

He paused during the writing of an email and looked out the window. He rose his hand to where Dimor's heart laid hidden and stroked it through his clothes, pensive. He didn't exactly have an idea, more like the sensation that something was nagging at him, something that could turn into a plan if he knew what it was. 

For one, the more time passed, the more he was starting to suspect that Dimor wasn't as angry at Eric as he was at himself. A second theory added itself to the first, and that was that Dimor was angry because he had slipped. Fucked up, to say it crudely. He had felt Eric against him, smelled him and, in his half-slumber, had reacted accordingly to his true desires. 

And his true desire was an interesting thing to consider. In fact, Eric felt his cheeks heat as he thought of the implications that this might have. His first thought was that he might have a chance, even if that chance ended up being purely physical. His reasonable side dismissed that. Too risky, and not worth considering. To build a plan based on this assumption would be folly. And that type of folly might end up badly - curse level of badly. 

But he might have a chance. 

And what to say about how Dimor reacted to touch in the first place? Eric was not blind. He knew that the vouivre loved being touched, at least when he was still in his most human form. There was a reason Eric liked offering shoulder massages... and there was a reason Dimor accepted them eagerly each time. He didn't complain when he was touched, even if he never reached out to touch Eric.

Until today. 

He closed his computer and thought hard about it, crossing his hands to rest his chin on them. Maybe risking Dimor's ire would be worth it, if that was his only option in this situation. Maybe he could even make his move discreetly enough to gain some much-needed advantage without appearing to be suspicious. 

There it was. The plan he had been expecting.

If there was one thing that Eric had learned about Dimor during the time they had lived together, it was that Dimor was an incorrigible hedonistic. He didn't _declare_ himself to be so, but it was pretty obvious from the way he behaved. It something was comfortable to sit or lay on, he generally collapsed on it; if something was tasty looking, he brought it to his mouth and ate it - Eric had had many of his unmonitored coffees stolen that way; if something smelled nice, he flickered his tongue in its vicinity more often than not. 

And he loved, loved, loved shiny things. Even shiny plastic things contented him, but when he could get his hands on the real thing... 

Knowing all that, Eric had set off on a quick shopping trip to serval different places. And he knew that he was being unreasonable, that it would put a dent in his expenses, but now was the time to make a move. 

He was surprised to see that Dimor had emerged from his room in Eric's absence. He didn't seem too happy, even if he was in his snake form. 

"I'm hungry," he said the moment he saw the human. 

Eric had to refrain from rolling his eyes. Of course he was. Dimor had not eaten since last night. Instead, he smiled. 

"Give me a moment. Do you mind snacking on something for a while as I prepare something to eat?" 

Dimor shrugged. He perked up when he saw that Eric had a bag of fish-shaped appetizers for him, drawn from the shopping bag he carried. They were not fish flavoured, but they were Dimor's favourite anyway. 

"You went food shopping?" asked the vouivre. 

"Yes, for lunch." 

This earned him a glance that might be surprise or suspicion, it was hard to tell. Eric retreated to the kitchen. 

Anton had been more of an intellectual guy. He didn't really care about presents and good food, as long as he could have long, stimulating conversations with someone. It was an aspect of their relationship that Eric had had trouble dealing with. Dimor was almost the opposite in this regard. He most certainly enjoyed high-skill activities, such as sewing complex pieces of clothing, but if Eric shared anything with him it was most likely a meal. 

"You're up to something," Dimor said. 

Eric cried out and turned around. Dimor was right there, behind him. He approached, and Eric had to lean back over the counter behind him to keep their faces at a good distance. 

"Is there something you should tell me, Eric?" he asked. 

"Such-- such as what, Dimor?" Eric played it off as if it was nothing. 

Dimor tilted his head, his eyes drifting to the fish Eric had been preparing. He flickered his tongue at it. 

"That's swordfish. Do you even know how to prepare swordfish?" 

"Don't you like it?" 

"I do. But you know it's my favourite fish." 

Eric gulped. He remembered how many times he had eaten swordfish at his uncle's when he was still alive, and how many time his uncle had confessed that he didn't actually like it, but he needed a bit of luck at the moment. Eric had thought the remark strange, until he had met fish-fanatic Dimor. 

"And I didn't ask for any," Dimor added, "yet you went out on your own and bought some. And I think that it is suspicious." 

"That..." Eric interrupted himself when he saw Dimor smile mischievously. Crap. Dimor was toying with him again, wasn't he? "Well, I just thought that it was a good time to celebrate..."

"Celebrate what?" Dimor laughed, cruelly, knowing that he had trapped his prey. "There is nothing for you to celebrate. As a human, you should fear any gain of power a fairy obtains. Especially one that has been trapped by humans for so long as myself." He tilted his head, hands on his hips. "Now, tell me, Eric, what you are _really_ planning to do."

This was the end of the line, thought Eric. 

He might as well take the leap of faith. 

"Well, true, there is nothing for me to celebrate," he said. "But that doesn't mean that I can't prepare a meal to try and please you." 

"Please me?" repeated Dimor. "You mean appease me, so that I might spare you a kinder fate." 

"No. Please you." 

Dimor laughed. "That makes no sense." 

"That makes all the sense in the world to me." Eric stood straight, his heart beating strongly in his chest. "I want to please you because I like you. I want to see you pleased."

"You still like me? Stop with that nonsense. I know your kind takes one look at my tail and find me repulsive. I used to think the same thing about your legs until I was forced to get used to them." 

"I don't like you for your legs." Eric reached up and stroked Dimor's cheek. He was shaking, knowing that he was playing it all or nothing-- but if he didn't do it now, then he would miss the occasion. "You're one beautiful dragon." 

"Stop that." Dimor smacked Eric's hand away. "You're lying." 

"Am I? If you really think that, strike me down. Do it right now." 

Dimor's fist tightened, but the hit never came. He just stared, and Eric could see how uncertain he was about this. When he was sure that he wouldn't be harmed, Eric picked the vouivre's scarlet hand and held it gently in his to stroke its back. And Dimor didn't pull it away. 

"It's been a while since you ate some swordfish. How about you let me cook some? And you can celebrate all you want."

"Don't you _sweet talk_ me, Eric," snapped Dimor. "I've met better charmers than you. You won't get me to soften." 

"Suits yourself." 

Eric kissed the back of Dimor's hand. He had the satisfaction of feeling him pull it away as soon as his lips touched the scaly skin, as if it burned. This was an interesting situation to be sure, and one that wasn't entirely to his disadvantage, so he pushed his luck. 

"Just that you know that I would be willing to do a lot more if you asked," he said. "I would be more than happy to please you any way you like." 

"Any way I liked?" Dimor laughed. "I could ask anything from you when you say something like that. You don't know what you are talking about." 

"I think I have a good idea of what I am talking about." And he winked. 

Dimor stared right at Eric as a blush crept on his face. He didn't seem to realize that he was getting it, because he huffed and put his hands on his hips to try and put up a tough front. 

"So, you think that, just because I had a little moment of weakness with you this morning, you can start walk all over me? Have you forgotten that I have the ability to do anything I want to you?" 

"By all means, go ahead." Eric grinned. "I'm into it." 

"No!" Dimor seemed startled by how strongly he had used his own voice and calmed it immediately. "Why would I want to do anything to you in the first place? You are delusional." 

"Wasn't it you that was threatening me?" 

"Now you are trying to get under my skin, and it's not going to end well." 

"More like against your skin." 

Dimor slapped him. 

Eric deserved it, he guessed, but even like that the slap tasted of victory. Dimor was fuming, but even he realized that he was letting his emotions speak louder than his head.

"You... You stupid, idiotic _human_!" he screamed. 

And then he turned around and left the room, slamming the door behind him. He slammed the door of his own room as well. 

Eric sighed, but something told him that he was out of trouble now. 


	24. Lola's Idea

Surprisingly, Dimor backed off after that. 

He didn't want to bother Eric quite as much and seemed more comfortable returning to many of their old habits from before the recovery of his powers: a careful observation from far as they quietly moved in the same spaces. Eric let him be, glad that he had gotten himself some sort of respite but was also deceived. He would have wanted to push things further, especially as they were getting somewhere interesting.

He told himself that he should be glad that the danger levels of the situation seemed to have come down a couple of notches. Easier said than done. 

He had always been a more out there kind of guy, especially when it came to flirting. There had been many times, over the last few months, where he had been tempted to be more open with Dimor, to compliment him more, but he had felt (right so) that the power dynamic between them had made it fair. Now, the situation was by no means better, the difference was that he had nothing to lose by trying. 

It was some time in the afternoon that Lola texted him 'i have an idea meet me at Maisy's. 

Now, it has been the place that Eric had chosen to break up with Anton, but it had originally been _his_ place, meaning that there was no risk of meeting his ex there. But, funnily enough, it turned out to be Lola's favourite place as well, and that was where they often met. Lola had once joked that, if luck had not found another way to have them come face to face, it would have happened there anyway. Eric had laughed at first, but those words, for some reason, had stuck with him. Sometimes, he wondered how much of his life was controlled by that same luck that helped him in so many ways. Was he a slave to Dimor's heart as well?

Of course, that was ridiculous. He couldn't be a slave if all the effects he got from it were beneficial. 

(Apart from the whole... any relationship with other people tended to be destroyed. Sometimes, he missed his old friends, but he still thought that getting rich in exchange was a worthy trade-off.) 

But he digressed. 

Usually, leaving the house wouldn't be a problem. Sometimes, he didn't tell Dimor where he was going, and that was fine with both of them. But the situation was so different now that even something that seemed so mundane was turned on his head. He apprehended the moment where he would have to come up to him and ask if he could go see Lola. Especially since Dimor had made no secret of how much he loved those visits. 

Currently, the vouivre was enjoying a movie from the couch as he waited for his black nails to dry. This had been another peace offering Eric had just grabbed from the shop in the spur of the moment, thinking that Dimor might be interested. He had barely grunted when it had been given to him, but the fact that he was using it probably meant that he liked it. 

Eric was weak for guys with nails painted black. That might or might not have factored into that decision. 

He tore his eyes fro Dimor's spread out hands and looked at his face. The little scales on the side of it were perfect to underline his cheekbones, enhancing the sharpness of his looks. He was so effortlessly _pretty_, sometimes, that it almost seemed unfair. 

"What do you want?" asked Dimor without looking away from the screen. 

"I--" Eric humidified his lips, a little nervous. He felt like a teen asking his parents if he could go out. "Lola said that there is something she wants to talk to me about. Probably business-related." 

"Hmm." 

"I would like to go to meet up with her."

"Call her." 

"I think it's important. She invited me to Maisy's, which probably means that she doesn't want to do that over the phone."

"Well, you're not going." 

He was still not looking at Eric, which annoyed the latter. "Why wouldn't I be able to leave?" he asked. "Want to keep me all for yourself?" He chuckled. "Well, I do suppose that dragons hoard what they like most--" 

"You are far from being worthy of treasure-guard." Dimor took off his eyes from the screen to look at Eric. He waved his hand to mute it with magic. "I said that you are not going, so you won't."

"Keeping me here even when I got to work? I don't know about you, but that sounds a tad possessive." 

"I am not--" Dimor stopped in the middle of his sentence, and Eric became sure that he had been about to lie. "I am not stopping you from working if I am letting you call her." 

"But you would still rather have me alone with you than alone with her." 

Dimor blew a loud puff of air through his nose. "Fine. Let's go, then." 

He stood up from the couch and clapped his hands. The television turned off. 

"Wait," said Eric. "You're coming?" 

"Yes. Are we going to have a problem?" 

"No, no." Lola wouldn't be happy to see him. "I'm just surprised, but it's not a _problem_."

"Good." 

Dimor went to get himself ready to leave and Eric quickly moved to his phone to send a message to Lola. He was halfway through it when it started to shut down; looking up, he was met with Dimor's smug smirk as he stood in the hallway. 

"Asshole," Eric said. 

"Likewise." 

"What did I do?" 

"Everything."

He turned away at this moment, interrupting the conversation.

"Asshole," muttered Eric under his breath. 

He went to restart his phone, but it only reacted with a drained battery screen, before shutting down again. For someone that was terrified of modern appliances, Dimor had learned how to control them with magic way too fast for Eric's liking. And now, Lola wouldn't be warned that DImor was coming along.

Much to Dimor's displeasure, they walked there, meaning that he had to change back to his human form for convenience. Something about people walking through you being a disagreeable sensation, Eric believed it was. But Dimor was the one that had insisted to come along, and even he was aware that it wasn't the place for him to complain. 

Even if he did seem upset when he sat down at one of the booths. 

Even if Eric didn't really mind having left Anton in the past, he didn't really like sitting at the place he had sat when he had told him that they were breaking up. The spot had not been their only option, but he couldn't help but glance at it. Lately, he had been wondering if there wouldn't be a way to overcome this curse of loneliness that came with owning Dimor's heart. It could be combatted, of course, but it was easy to see that it came with a price. Lola, for example, while doing her best to keep up, was very easily annoyed by him. Eric himself remembered how difficult it had been to stand his uncle Richard when he was still alive. 

Would he become a someone's Richard, someday? 

It was only temporary, he reasoned. Once he would be rich, he wouldn't need Dimor anymore, and then he could find a cute husband and all the friends he would ever wish for to live happily ever after in a lavish mansion near the sea. 

"I want a croissant," said Dimor in a sharp voice.

"Now?" Eric looked at the clock on the wall, since your phone was still not turning on. "It's three in the afternoon. They don't have any more croissants." 

Dimor squinted in the direction of the counter. His eyes flashed briefly. "The waitress stashed one for herself," he said. "Go ask for it." 

"What? No! I'm not going there. If she took it out of the display it probably was because it wasn't fresh anymore." 

"I don't care. It's right there in the back, walk up to her and just tell her that you want it." 

"I can't just walk up to people and reveal that I have the power to see through walls." 

Dimor flickered his serpentine tongue in annoyment. "I thought you wanted to please me, and now you don't want to please me anymore?" 

"You know what?" Eric grinned at Dimor. "I'll get it for you. But you got to kiss me." 

"What? Gross," Dimor replied. "I'm not kissing you." 

"Then no croissant." 

That was the moment Lola came through the door of the coffee shop. If she was surprised or displeased by Dimor's presence, she didn't show it; she had most probably been expecting it. 

"Hi Eric, hi Dimor," she said. 

"Hi Lola," said Eric. 

Dimor didn't answer. 

"Ignore him," added Eric. "He's pouting because he didn't get a croissant."

"I don't _pout_," snapped Dimor. "I am taking a moment of quiet to re-centre myself because you are making things _very difficult_ right now." 

At least that seemed to surprise Lola. She sent Eric a strange look but didn't inquire further as she took a seat. 

"Anyway, how are you?" asked Eric. "And how is Loak?" 

"Oh, I'm good, and he was as well last time I saw him. He went to visit one of his imp friends this morning while I was working." 

"An imp? As in, a trickster demon?" 

"They are not demons," explained Lola. "They are related, but by far. Think of it as distant descendants of crossbreeds between demons and humans." 

"The small ones taste like chicken," said Dimor. 

Eric and Lola looked at him in disbelief. 

"Or so I've heard. I'd rather have a trout." 

"Okay..." said Lola. She turned to Eric. "And how are you guys doing?" 

Eric blew through his nose. "Well, things have been... interesting." 

"Don't. Tell her," said Dimor. 

"Tell me what?" 

"I wasn't going to tell her anything." 

"Good," said Dimor. "Because it would be a shame if your phone never came back on." 

"Dimor, what did I say about casting spells on Eric?" said Lola.

"I didn't cast anything on him. You just didn't say anything about stuff belonging to him." 

"Dimor, we are working together," said Lola. "I need to be able to contact him."

"Fine." Dimor rolled his eyes. "I'll allow him to have the cursed thing." 

"How gracious," said Eric. 

That was the moment the waitress came over to take Lola's order. 

"Ask her for the croissant," said Dimor to Eric. 

Eric ignored him as Lola ordered herself a tea. 

"_Anyway_," said Lola once the waitress had left. "I wanted to talk to you, Eric." 

"Oh-- yes, that's right. What did you call me here for?" 

"Glad you ask." She pulled out some papers and her computer from her bag. "I still need to run this by some colleagues of mine for proofreading, but at this point I think that we're talking variations in performances rather than whether or not it can work." 

"What... is that?" Eric picked up a sheet full of numbers. 

"Glass. Just simple, see-through glass. But you can see through the Veil with it." 

"And that..." 

"That's what we are going to sell. We got our product." 

"It's just glass? It can't be possible _that_ simple. People would have figured it out already." 

"Well," she glanced at Dimor. "There are some... requirements during fabrication. But the base material is cheap and, if we work it in the right way, we can sell it for a lot." 

Eric perked up. That was what he was talking about. 

"I've been having the idea for a while now and working on it," explained Lola, "but the decisive element had always been a certain magical spell that had been lost long ago - during the witch hunts of the middle age, to be precise. It was a prime target for inquisitors because, when cast, the witches you make their familiar tangible enough that they could attack them - and considering that some familiars could be quite deadly, this had devastating consequences. My goal was to find this spell again through lab testing, but then that got cut short when I was fired." 

"They didn't want you to find it out," Eric said. 

"Most likely. But they didn't take Visions into account." 

"Visions?" said Eric. 

"You had a vision of Breakveil spell?" said Dimor. He seemed impressed.

"Yes. For you, Eric, that means that the spell was revealed to me in a dream. That's how people figured out most spells through the ages. It's quite rare so, of course, one could say that I was very lucky." She sent a coy look to Dimor. The latter seemed pleased. 

"So, what is the plan exactly?" asked Eric. "Can you cast it on the glass or however magic works?" 

"Not... exactly." Lola seemed a bit more sombre. "That's the tricky part." 

"I am not enchanting any glass for anyone," said Dimor. "I have not worked a single day in my life, I'm not about to start. Periode." 

"I didn't mean _you_ should do it," replied Lola. 

"Your rat is not going to be able to fill in for me either." 

"His name is _Loak_. And I'm sure there are plenty of powerful creatures willing to cast spells for the right amount of pay. It's just about finding a good price point." 

That didn't sound good, thought Eric. Dealing with another magical sounded like more trouble - and money - than what it might be worth. He glanced at Dimor. Having him doing it would be ideal...

"How taxing would it be for you to do it?" he asked. 

"I said I'm not doing it," said Dimor. 

"It wouldn't be much for him," answered Lola. "Dragons are the supernatural equivalent of a nuclear central. Just look at the power of his luck for proof - and that's a passive effect." Lola sighed. "But I'll ask around if anyone knows a demon or something in those waters." 

"A _demon_?" repeated Eric. 

"I know what it sounds like," said Lola, "but it can't hurt to try. Maybe a greed demon could accept money for it, and they can be powerhouses. Actually-- A greed demon would be perfect since their power increase the more stuff they own." 

"Is it a good idea to give a demon more power?" 

"No. But at least they never break a contract you sign with them, so at least _we_ would be safe from them." 

Eric had a brief thought for the strange call he had received this morning - Eng. He almost asked about him, but again he wasn't even sure what was Eng - certainly not something human. And he wasn't sure he wanted to work with Eng. 

"Anyhow, we'll have to think about it. Talk it through, probably. I'm pretty much expecting a solution to fall into my lap at this point." 

"Hopefully, it will be soon." 

"Yeah, hopefully," said Dimor sarcastically. 


	25. The Negociation

Eric looked up from his book but Dimor was reading. Yet the moment he looked down at his magazine, he felt watched again, and he couldn't even focus on the article he was reading. So he'd look up, and Dimor's eyes, that just peered over the top of his historical novel, were cast down on the page in front of him. He had not turned one in over ten minutes. Eric had noticed that because he was doing the same with his reading. They had been dancing around each other like that all evening. 

He knew that Dimor would never _dream_ of being the first one to talk, so he decided that he was going to be the brave one and put his magazine down. And because he was going first, he got to choose the subject. 

"I think that it would be a great job for you," he said. 

"I am _not_ doing it. I told you that I'm not. Go find someone else to enchant your windows." 

"I'm not even saying that for myself. I just think you should get a job _in general_. Why not that one?" 

Dimor stopped pretending then. He looked up, pinning Eric to his chair with a thorn-coloured gaze, then slowly lowered his book. The effect he was trying to achieve was probably an ominous one. Eric's heart was just pounding because he was captivated by the beauty of his perfect face. 

"Are you saying that I should _pay rent_?" 

"No, not at all-- I just think... You need to do something. All you have been doing lately is watch television and read historical novels. Do you ever feel like you accomplished something?" 

"Eric, I sewed my entire wardrobe, which is more than what you can say about yourself." 

"I mean, sure, that's pretty impressive--" 

"Thank you." 

"But-- what I meant is that-- don't you ever accomplish anything for anyone else but yourself?" 

"Ah. I see where this is going. And who should I help other than myself? You? Lola?" He scoffed. "Please. This is pointless." 

"Well, what about those fairy friends you made? Pepperoni? May? You've told me about them. What if you built a fairy birdhouse? Well, maybe not a _bird_house-- a fairyhouse? Would that make them happy?" 

"It just doesn't work that way. I'm the noble, they do things for me." 

"Well, I'll let you know that this is a horribly outdated mentality." 

"Well, maybe to you, with your boring human species where everyone is the same size. Besides, it makes them happy to serve me." 

"Well, why wouldn't it make you happy to do something for them?" 

"I don't need that to be happy."

"Last time you thought you were useless you went into depression." 

"I wasn't _depressed_." He rolled his eyes. 

"You did nothing but nap for a month." 

Dimor didn't reply right away. Then he muttered, "I wasn't depressed."

"Well, anyway, I still think it wouldn't hurt to try-- Oh, idea. How about you make them some clothes? You like doing that. Or tiny jewellery... something like what you usually do with your arts and crafts." 

"Well..." Dimor seemed a little embarrassed. "They'll think it's weird. It's really... it's usually not like that among fairies." 

"No, they won't. They'll love it. You make this amazing stuff for yourself - you make yourself look good every day. And you like doing it, so it's a double win." 

Dimor didn't reply and just scratched his chin, deep in thoughts. He then started to fiddle with the book on his lap. 

"I just think that you'd like it more than you think you would," said Eric. 

"I still won't work for you." 

Eric sighed. "I wasn't talking about that-- but sure. Okay. I wanted to talk about Lola's idea anyway. Is there really no way that I can bribe you?" 

Dimor opened his mouth and, interestingly enough, paused and then didn't reply. Eric saw his chance. 

"Maybe not with money," he said, "but with material stuff. Presents. Is there anything I can get you?" 

Dimor shook his head. 

"So it's not money... and it's not presents. Can't be food... How about-- How about a trip? Somewhere fancy." 

"The only place I want to go to is Erbothia."

"Maybe a spa? Never mind." Eric thought of it. "How about a massage? Daily massages for your shoulders and back. I can get better at them." 

Dimor shugged. Eric's heartbeat quickened. Dimor had something in mind, and "massages" has been the closest he had gotten to guess what it was. No need to be a genius to understand where this was going, yet he didn't dare ask. Dimor started to fumble with his book, obviously embarrassed. 

"There is something you want, right?" asked Eric in a low voice. 

Dimor glanced up, but was unable to hold Eric's gaze. He was very red in the face, and his tail was wrapped so tightly around the couch that the wooden structure cracked a little.

"You can tell me," added Eric. 

"Not now." Dimor rose up and placed his book on the table. "Not now. I can't-- I'm not ready." He turned around to leave the room, to escape to his own. 

"That's fine," said Eric. "Take your time." 

Dimor glanced over his shoulder but didn't say good night as he left, as if scared that the words he didn't want to say would spill out if he opened his mouth. 

Eric had spent the waking moments of the night thinking about Dimor. The way he spoke, the way he posed himself, even the feel of his scales, occupying his mind so much that they slipped in and out of his dreams. He imagined feeling him under the sheets, against his body, asking to be pleased in that commanding tone of his. Eric felt obsessed, sickeningly so. He had been given so many reasons to hope that his desire for the vouivre might come to fruition last night that he couldn't help himself anymore. 

But he would be good. Until Dimor said that he could, he would hold back. They might be complete asses to each other sometimes - well, Dimor was more of an ass than Eric, the latter thought - but forcing each other in this sort of situation was not going to happen. Now, if they were both willing... 

Eric finished preparing the hot water bottle of the morning and made his way to Dimor's room. He hesitated before knocking. Last morning's incident was still fresh in his mind. He didn't want to make a mistake and be deprived of the other's presence for half a day. But, at the same time, if he didn't bring him his water bottle, Dimor _would_ be upset. 

So he knocked and entered. 

Dimor was quietly resting in the bed, sound asleep. He only reacted to the other's presence when Eric slowly pulled the cover away to place the hot water bottle against his chest, groaning as he slowly stretched himself. To move around the room, Eric had to step delicately over the coils of Dimor's never-ending tail, which he did to reach the window and open the curtains. 

"Eric..." said Dimor. 

The human turned to him to listen to what he had to say, but Dimor started to yawn and stretch again before settling deeper in the sheets. His eyes were half opened, but struggled not to close. 

"Take your time," said Eric. He couldn't help but smile. Dimor struggling to remain awake in the morning was always adorable. "I'll come back later." 

Dimor nodded, and Eric left the room to go prepare breakfast. Coffee was the most important, always, and then came some sort of fish dish. Eric had taken to prepare a tuna based paste mixed with herbs and mayonnaise in the place of butter or bacon. As he worked, he didn't think much of what Dimor wanted to tell him before. In retrospective, he should have.

When everything was ready, he returned to Dimor's room to check on him once more. 

The vouivre was a little more awake this time, sitting up against the cushions and the wall. His gaze landed on Eric when he entered and didn't move away. He seemed to be thinking about something, although a blush was creeping on his cheeks the longer he stared. Eric's heartbeat was quickening again. 

"Is there something you want?" he asked. 

"Close the door," Dimor answered.

There was no one else in the flat to walk in on them, but it was the intention that counted. Eric obeyed, then stood there standing, waiting for what was to come next. 

Dimor looked even more embarrassed, his cheeks red with a tint that wasn't his scales, but he eventually cleared his throat and spoke. 

"I've been thinking a lot about something," he said.

"Something?" 

"Something you've said." 

He didn't say more but instead looked outside as if seeking the inspiration to continue speaking. He was obviously struggling to find words or fighting against the pride that prevented him from saying them. But he ended his hesitation by breathing in deeply, before continuing his earlier announcement. 

"You said that you wished the please me, yesterday." As he spoke, he grew more confident, slipping in his new role. A small smile appeared on his lips, one that made Eric's heartbeat even faster than what it already was. "That caught my attention, and I've been thinking of ways to test you." 

"I don't think that it will be necessary to test me." Eric couldn't help but grin as he answered. "You can ask anything from me, and you shall see it done. Of course, they'll be exceptions, depending or not I am harmed, or harm someone else... the rest, however, is all yours to try." He spread his arms, offering his body, and had the satisfaction of seeing the vouivre's blush deepen a little. 

"Allow me to doubt your willingness," Dimor said. 

"There's no cause to doubt."

"There is." 

His tail lifted, wrapping around Eric's waist. If the latter tensed, it was because he expected being lifted off the ground, but instead he was pulled closer. Dimor stopped him when he was a step away, and rested his hand on one of the other's, his eyes going over Eric's body. His tongue flickered out to taste the air. 

"But first," said Dimor, "I want to see. Unbutton your shirt." 

Eric didn't hesitate. He was not the fittest of men, nor was he particularly strong, but he was slim, healthy, and his skin - even untanned - had a golden glow to it that was attractive to many different tastes. He took his time revealing it to Dimor's eyes, watching his expression as the vouivre drank the sight in. As he was then, laying on his pillows, nostrils slightly flaring with each drop of a button, he looked the rank he claimed to be - noble, maybe even princely. A subtle heat started to pulsed in Eric's abdomen.

Dimor's heart was revealed.

The sudden reminder of the true nature of their relationship created an awkward pause for both of them. Eric almost buttoned his shirt back up to hide it again, but he knew that this would ruin the mood for certain. He had waited too long for this moment. So he stilled, awaiting Dimor's verdict, still hoping. 

"I can't touch it unless it's given to me," said Dimor. "Take it off." 

Eric hesitated. 

"Put it on the table. I won't steal it from you." 

He did so, delicately. He could feel Dimor's eyes on him, like flames licking his skin. But when he turned his gaze back to the vouivre, he met a pair of eyes fixed on him only, hungry and smug. 


	26. Double

He was suddenly thrust on the bed, half-falling on Dimor. Before he could protest, the tail around his waist dragged him until he was laying the other, his face at the level of Dimor's stomach. The latter chuckled darkly and stroked his cheek. 

"Perfect," he purred. 

"Oh god." 

"Growing shy on me now, Eric?" 

Eric grinned in reply. "In your dreams." 

"We'll see if you're still so keen in five minutes." 

Dimor wore a light nightgown to bed, made of fluid fabric, that he had sown himself. He grabbed some of it and started to pull on it; Eric lifted himself so that it might rise. He looked at what was revealed eagerly, both curious and full of desire. Dimor's tail met his hips with a fading of the scales, the rounder and softer ones of his underbelly climbing up his stomach as a happy trail would. He saw no sex that looked human, but instead there was a slit surrounded by a ring of rising muscles and, about two finger's width beneath it, a second puncture, rounder, smaller, and more deeply embedded inside the tail. 

Eric never thought that he would be aroused by the sight of a snake's crotch; there was a first to everything. He shifted his hips as blood started to flow towards his cock, making it stir with small flashes of heat. He looked up at Dimor's face, waiting for instructions on what he was supposed to do. 

"Well?" said Dimor. "What are you waiting for? You said that you were willing to massage me, so do that there." 

"There where?" Eric looked down. 

Experience had taught him that he was better off asking than not being sure what to do. It was a little odd to him to be thrust in bed with a man he had never even kissed, but considering how painfully attracted he was to said man he didn't want to mess it up.

"Around there." Dimor reached down and stroked the side of his slit with a single black nail. "Gently." 

Still a little unsure, Eric placed a hand on each side of it and traced small, light circles on each side with his thumbs. The scales there were smooth, the flesh rising up ever so slightly, but the moment Eric touched it he realized that a massage was most certainly in order: Dimor slit was a knot of tensed muscles. He even jolted when Eric applied pressure, and judging by the slight hiss he produced it wasn't from pleasure. 

"Are you nervous?" asked Eric. 

"Don't ask questions." 

"You _are_, aren't you?" 

He hesitated when Eric looked up, glancing to the side when he couldn't hold the other's gaze. "It's been a long time." 

"How long?" 

"Last time it happened, I was in Erbothia." 

Oh. That type of "long time". 

"You'll be fine," said Eric. "I'll take it nice and slow." 

"It will pass in five minutes." 

"Doesn't mean it can't use a bit of help."

Eric flashed a knowing smile to Dimor. The latter drew in a shaky breath and nodded a little, a lot less smug now but just as red as before. Then Eric returned his attention to Dimor's slit. He used his thumbs in long, slow strokes on the side until Dimor's flesh started to give in, and then when he felt that the other was giving in he started to push closer to the centre. With each slow touch, with each deep breath from the Vouivre, the slit parted more, until the pink flesh on the inside started to show; Eric leaned towards it. 

"Fuck!" cried Dimor when he was licked down there. He cleared his throat when Eric looked up. "I'm fine. Please continue." 

Eric hid his smile by pressing his mouth against Dimor. He kept using his thumbs to slowly pry the other open, then his tongue to caress what was being revealed to him. The tail around his waist tightened with each stroke. 

Eric didn't dare to force it until he was certain that he wouldn't cause any harm, but when he did he plunged his tongue deep inside to ease the burn. He didn't expect Dimor's reaction. It was as if a switch had been pressed: his muscles rippled, but most importantly he arched his back and let out a soft moan. Something hard pressed back against Eric's tongue, causing him to back away. He supposed that this meant that his dick was coming out. 

He had to make a double-take when two of them emerged. 

They looked human enough, maybe with a pointier tip than what Eric has seen in other partners; it was just that they were two of them. As they filled up in front of his eyes, the ends slowly moved apart from one another but the bases sat close to one another, making a V-shape. Surprised, Eric didn't know what to do until Dimor groaned and grabbed him by the hair. 

"Don't stop," he said. 

Eric glanced up. Dimor looked mad but also aroused, biting his lip. He had obviously waited way too long for this to let his partner get cold feet at the last moment. Not that Eric was having those, he just had not decided how much he liked this unexpected twist. This certainly broadened the scope of possibilities. 

He tentatively stroked one, testing out what it felt like, before deciding that it was fine. He kissed a tip, then the other, trying to decide which one of them was more deserving of his attention. Dimor's gaze had lost all trace of anger, fascinated as he was by Eric's discovery of his anatomy. His breath came out in short bursts. 

Eric went down on one of his cocks almost with no warning, taking the tip in his mouth to suck on it. Dimor's breath hitched, almost escaped through his lips with a wimper, and he thrashed a little on the sheets. The tightening of his tail around Eric's midriff didn't worry him; in fact, he was starting to think that it was rather hot. It was like a hand gripping him, seeking something to grad as pleasure washed over its owner. 

And Dimor indeed looked pleased. With each swirl of his tongue, he would gasp. And ever time he gasped, his hips would twitch as he fought the urge to thrust up. He was very sensitive, that was for certain. Was that what happened to someone when they spent two hundred years without touch? And not just sexual, but all touch; Eric couldn't imagine the proud vouivre letting anyone close before him. 

He leaned away from Dimor's dick to speak, a string of saliva still connecting it to his lips. "You needed that," he said. 

"More," replied Dimor. "Please. Don't stop." 

Eric smiled and obeyed. He took it deeper this time, sucking on it as he bobbed his head. Dimor buried his hands in Eric's hair as he cried out, like he absolutely needed to hold on to something. But he didn't try to control the human. His nails dug into his scalp, yes, but he was too far gone to try and direct him, for which Eric was grateful. He didn't really like being controlled in bed. 

"Don't stop," repeated Dimor. 

Eric didn't, but he did switch, his mouth on the other one while his hand glided over the wet dick he had just left behind. Dimor arched his back and as he let out a loud moan. A few days ago, Eric wouldn't have even imagined that he would be hearing Dimor making such a sound. It was lewd and wanton, and it went straight to his dick. Eric started to grind himself a wet spot against the vouivre's warm tail. 

He was getting excited too, but the one that needed it the most right now was Dimor. Besides, he had been the one saying that he would do anything to please him. He should hold true to his word. 

Even if right now Dimor was really, really sexy, with the way he was spread with abandon over the sheets. Eric glanced up to take in the picture, committing it to memory. This was the prettiest he had seen Dimor yet. 

A particular good suck made the vouivre moan loudly. This time, however, he seemed to realize that he was crying out, and he turned bright red. One of his hands left Eric's scalp and balled into a fist so that he could bite on it. Eric had to chuckle when he saw that, which earned him a glare from the other. But he was too adorable. 

And it made Eric want to hear his screams even more. 

He pulled off his mouth, but his hand kept pumping him lazily. "You like anal, right?" he asked. 

Dimor glared at him again. "You know that."

"Are you clean?" 

Dimor blinked a little, understood, then snapped his fingers while saying a strange word. "Now I am." He bit his lip, his confident facade crumbling even as he tried his best to keep it up. "And, erm, _oiled_. Go... do it." 

Eric smiled and nodded before he slipped his hand down. His fingers found the small dip and another ring of tight muscles at the bottom. He started to trace small circles against it, easing it apart as Dimor's breath fluttered, somewhere above him. All he wanted was to get a single finger in but Dimor was still very tense. 

So he distracted him to the best of his abilities, by resuming his attention to his cocks. His tongue mapped their underside, one after the other, and then he took one in his mouth again. Two cocks were harder to manage than one but, if he was lacking in any way, Dimor was not complaining about it. In fact, even if he was not careful with what sounds he let through, he was obviously struggling not to show too much.

But, with all that, Dimor seemed to forget about the finger at his ass. And as he forgot, he let himself relax until he could be breached. Eric pushed in. As Dimor had said, he was indeed slick and, once he had passed the initial tight ring at the beginning, it was easy to move in and out. Eric did that a few times and was rewarded by tell-tale sharp inhales from Dimor. But this was not his final plan.

He knew when he had found Dimor's prostate because, when he did, Dimor jolted and finally let a single moan escape. And, from there onwards, it was all downhill for Eric. He zeroed on the point inside Dimor, relentlessly massaging it, and with each tight circle Dimor was crying out louder and nothing could muffle him. All this was music to Eric's ears, and the taste of precum on his tongue could have been honey for the smug delight it gave him. 

"Stop--" Dimor said. 

Before Eric could even obey, Dimor had lifted him by the waist, suddenly, high enough that he might not be reached. Eric almost started to protest but remained mesmerized by the display in front of his eyes. 

Eyes closed, beat red, fists balled in the sheets, Dimor came. Cum shot out of his right cock even as it was deprived of touch, and Dimor withered on the bed. His cry became strangled and low, as if stuck halfway through his throat until it was a growl. That sound alone made Eric shudder with desire. 

Right as he started to calm down, Dimor looked up at Eric, down at his crotch, and then came a _second_ time, this time from his left cock. The second wave had him thrash his tail around the room, making Eric sway dangerously, but he was too far gone to notice. His mouth was open on a silent scream, then out slipped a few broken moans. And then he finally calmed after his high. 

Eric was slowly let back down on the bed as Dimor relaxed. Eric was hard and not very comfortable, but he did his best to ignore that. There were a few moments of silence and Dimor remained laying and panting before he slowly looked up. 

Their gaze met. Dimor became red again. 

"Why did you want me to stop?" asked Eric. 

Dimor bit his lip but didn't resist telling him the truth. "My plan was to kick you out before I did-- but..." He stopped there, too embarrassed to continue. 

"You came faster than you thought." 

"I wasn't this... sensitive last time," muttered Dimor. 

Eric wasn't even mad, but this was mostly due to Dimor being adorable. He could get used to him being a bit shyer - unless he had been shy all along and Eric had just never noticed. And the important part was that things had gone as they had in the end, even if things were not entirely solved yet. Eric glanced down at his crotch and the obvious tenting of his pants. 

Dimor glanced down at well and noticed. 

"Is that..." he asked. 

"What else? A banana?" answered Eric, amused. 

Dimor diverted his eyes away from it and Eric instantly regretted his joke. The other had been talking about kicking him out just moments ago; he should have already guessed that Dimor didn't want to deal with Eric's erection as well. And it was Eric's own fault, really: he had spoken of Dimor's pleasure, insisted that he would provide, but had never said anything about his own. 

"I'll go to my room," Eric said as he stood up. "Breakfast is ready. The coffee might be a bit cold though."

Dimor opened his mouth to protest but didn't say anything. Instead, he regained some of his composure and nodded, dismissing the human. Eric nodded back and turned away, doing his best to pretend that he wasn't hurt. 


	27. Reap What You Sow

He breathed in deeply before starting to go through his contacts. It was just a call to Lola, he told himself; but really, he knew that it was nothing but wishful thinking.

Not that he feared Lola's reaction to the news he was bringing, but because the price he had to pay to bring her said news left a bitter taste in his mouth: the taste of being used. Which was a paradox, considering _he_ was using Dimor for his own means to an end. One might even say that it was karma coming to bite him in the ass. That didn't change the feeling of betrayal. That didn't stop him from replying, again and again, the look of embarrassment on Dimor's face as he thought of a polite way to fuck off. It hurt to think of it, so he didn't want to, but he was going to have to report it to Lola in some capacity for her to understand.

And he dreaded that.

In order to stall, he turned to other things. He put his phone down and told himself he would do it after he went through his emails. That would do.

At the very top was one from Eng, reminding him that he had not replied to the first one he had sent. In fact, with everything that had been going on, Eric had not even taken a look at his resume. Now was a time as good as any to do that, if ever. He opened it and went through it.

The more he read through, the more suspicious he became. This Eng was no nobody. He didn't recognize some of the companies that were cited, but when he looked them up they were _big_. And all the work titles mentioned seemed to be important. The words "lead" and "manager" kept coming up. And his references were bafflings - more internet searches made the CEO of an international company come up.

Either it was a scam, either Eric was out of his league just having Eng on his phone. But the phone numbers, the names, and the dates matched. The document looked legit.

What the fuck did a guy like that want with them?

This just made Eric even more uneasy than he already way. He would rather phone Lola. 

She quickly picked the phone.

"Eric?" she asked. "What is it?"

"I convinced Dimor."

"Convinced Dimor?" She realized what he meant. "He agreed to help us make the glass?"

"That's right."

"That amazing." She remained quiet for a while, then repeated, "Amazing. How did you even do that?"

"Let's just say that we had a long conversation."

As if summoned when others spoke about him, Dimor came out of the kitchen, fish leftovers from yesterday on a plate in his hand, fork in the other. He sent Eric a look that the latter couldn't really decipher - Perplexity? Annoyance? Surprised? - and installed himself at the low table of the living room to eat. He laid on his own coils, using them as a pillow. Eric didn't know how comfortable he would be with having a tail in the place of his legs but it sure looked very practical.

"Can I be a hundred per cent honest with you for a moment?" said Lola.

"Yeah?"

"I honestly thought that this was something you could never accomplish. I'm glad that you proved me wrong. You are rather good at what you do despite everything."

"Despite everything?"

"Everything that happened with you freeing Dimor's powers."

"Oh." Silence. "Well, it did turn out all right in the end."

Dimor shook his head, strongly disapproving this statement. Could he hear both sides of the conversation with magic? Eric had not seen him cast a spell, but he could have done it in the kitchen. It annoyed him a little that Dimor would be so nosy, but again he had nothing else to do.

"I still don't understand how you did it," said Lola. "I already sent a message to my friends asking about any demons they might know and some have replied asking if I am insane. It's a relief, really. You're actually a good guy."

Eric laughed but it was to mask his embarrassment. She didn't quite behave as she usually did and he didn't know what to make of it.

"That's a strange way to word it, what do you mean?" he asked.

"Well... To tell you the truth, when I first met you I didn't really like you. Not that you've done anything, and I've always made an effort to behave fairly to you, but... It's just something about you. But you're a fine person. Hardworking. And diligent. A little unaware, but honestly for someone that didn't know about the supernatural before meeting Dimor you're managing it like a champ. I honestly don't know why I used to think that."

"Oh." Eric knew why. "That's normal. That's the curse that comes with Dimor's powers."

"The curse?"

"He said it's complicated because magic, but basically I get what he gets. And he's often alone, so, in turn, I repulse people away." Pause. "I lost quite a few friends. And a boyfriend."

"Oh." She paused. "But... can't you find some friends for him? There were tons of creatures all around you, living in every nook and cranny. And then how come I'm warming up to you?"

"Maybe because you are a witch?"

Dimor was making a strange face. Just by looking at him, Eric was certain that he knew something that they didn't, but he couldn't exactly interrupt the call to ask him. But he did make note of it, and promised himself that he would question the vouivre later.

"That doesn't sound right," she said. "That's a magical condition. It would make no sense for human witches to be specifically excluded from it. There must be something else at play here."

"What's a magical condition?"

She didn't reply right away as she pondered the best way to explain it. "Well, you are aware that Dimor is an artificial creature?"

"Am not," said Dimor, loud enough to be heard.

"Oh, well--" She seemed flustered by the realisation that he had heard her. "I didn't mean, artificial like a robot. More like... I suppose that the best equivalent of what he is is a baby in vito. Sorry if I offended you, Dimor."

"Your apology has been noted," he said disdainfully.

"Wait, how do you know that?" asked Eric.

"Because all vouivres are all siblings, coming from the same parents, and those parents shouldn't be capable of making a baby together."

"They can't?"

"Do you really think that a dragon and fairy can have kids?"

"I mean..." He felt embarrassed that he had assumed, now that it was being pointed out. "They are both magical..."

"Indeed, and that's what they used to make them. Hence, a vouivre's origin is magical, meaning that their existence is conditioned by the rules dictated at their creation. That's why Dimor can't just take the heart back, he has to wait that you give it to him. That's why you get lucky, and that's why you lose friends. In the case of Dimor, the fact that his heart can be stolen is part of his magical condition, in other words, a condition that allows him to be alive the way he is, both fairy and dragon."

"Oh." Eric turned to Dimor, talking to him. "You didn't tell me that."

"I didn't think you were smart enough to understand at the time, and then you never asked about it."

"So you were lazy," said Lola.

"I was no--" He stopped in the middle of the sentenced, gritted his teeth, and hissed his next words though them. "I was lazy, yes."

"It's fine," said Eric. "I should have asked."

He regretted helping Dimor try to save face when the latter scoffed, picked up his plate and left to the kitchen. He slammed the door behind him too. Ungrateful snake.

"He's a lost cause, Eric," she said. "You're wasted on him, he's going to break your heart. You two just come from very different cultures."

"But I do..." He didn't really know how he wanted to end that sentence. "I do... I can't help it."

"He doesn't have a heart like yours. Literally."

Eric remained silent. He knew she was right. He knew that she was right. But he really couldn't help it.

"Listen, you take care, all right?" she said. "Suck up to him if you have to, but don't let yourself get caught up in his games. I wish you luck."

"Thanks."

They went through the formalities of saying goodbye to one another, understanding that this conversation had come to an end, and hung up. The moment Eric put the phone down, Dimor was back in the living room. 

"Give me a massage," said Dimor.

Eric tensed up. He already knew where this was going.

"If you don't obey me, I'll withdraw my help. You just announced it to Lola, it would be a shame if you would call her back to tell her that I changed my mind."

Eric knew that he was serious about it. That's why a wave of anger rose in his chest, threatening to overtake everything. He breathed in deeply and it reseeded, thankfully. But it didn't leave.

"Dimor, you really are a gross person sometimes."

"Come again?"

"Dimor, that's a really gross thing to say."

Dimor narrowed his eyes but didn't reply.

"And you know it," said Eric. "You know exactly what you are doing."

"I accepted to _help_ you. You, my captor and guardian. You should be kissing my tail-tip and praising me for my generosity right now."

"You know that I like you."

Dimor didn't reply, again. Eric stood from the couch. The wave was rising, slowly but surely.

"You know that I like you and you are using that for your own personal gain. That's what's gross. And then, when I call you out on it, you imply that I am forcing you to do it by keeping your heart."

"I never implied that."

"Well, that's what I am hearing! And you are probably aware of that either. The business with your heart has nothing to do with it. Yeah, it's a problem. I know. But you're no better than me."

"I am--"

"If you were in my shoes you wouldn't be as kind as I am to you and we both know it. You're already doing shitty stuff."

Dimor rose on his tail, trying to gain a peg by looking down at Eric. But he didn't have anything to say. He was like a cornered cobra opening its hood wide to scare its hunter.

"So, no, I won't give you a massage, Dimor. I will not because I do it to be nice, and I'm really sick of you playing with my feelings."

"Then it's simple. Our agreement doesn't hold."

"Fine. I'd rather collaborate with a demon."

"You _wouldn_'_t_."

"You think I'm lying?" Eric planted his hands on his hips. He too could look big and scary if he wanted. "I'm not. I could even give you to the demon as part of the deal, but I wouldn't because I'm not an asshole like you."

"You wouldn't because you're nothing without me. You'll never give me up."

"Actually, I plan to do just that. The moment this project is secured, you're free. You'll get your damn heart back and I hope I never see your face again."

Dimor's mouth dropped open in shock, but he was quick to regain his countenance. "You're a damn liar. I thought you liked me."

Eric stepped closer, in Dimor's space. "I would rather rip you off me like a bandaid that have you crush my heart as you do," he said in his calmest voice. "Look at me in the eye and tell me that I am lying."

Dimor held his gaze in silence until he had to look away. Eric pushed his advantage.

"You don't have the power over me that you thought you had, Dimor. Back off."

Dimor shoved him.

For a second, Eric thought that he was about to get a beating. He got really scared. But Dimor was only pushing him away so that he could run, moving at a speed that shouldn't be possible with a snake tail and slamming the doors behind him. He was fleeing. Again.

Eric sank down on the couch and hugged himself. The anger was slowly bubbling down, and already he was regretting some of the things he had said. But at the same time, he felt oddly free, like a weight had been taken off his chest. He sighed and rubbed his face, knowing that he was going to have to find a way to fix this.

But he wouldn't call Lola to tell her that the deal was off quite yet.


	28. Silence

Eric almost flaked out when he stood in front of the door. But he knew he couldn't afford it, literally, so he breathed in deeply and knocked.

No reply.

"I brought you coffee," he said.

He waited a few more moments before he sighed, but he still didn't walk away. Instead, he sat down on the ground and placed the cup in front of the door. And then he waited some more.

"You can take it if you like, it's on the floor."

The room cracked open. A hand with black nails grabbed the cup and pulled it in. The door shut.

All right, so he was still angry.

"Dimor, we need to talk."

"No."

"Yes, we do."

Silence.

"I really would like if we could talk."

"Go away."

"At least listen to what I got to say."

Silence again.

Eric sighed and changed position so that he would be resting against the door instead of facing it.

"I didn't really mean some of the things I said to you."

Scoff. "I did." His voice was close. He was right behind the door.

"I know you did. You're living in the moment like that."

No reply.

"About the giving you away part." Eric paused. "I got to admit that it would be a bit harder to give you away than what I made it sound like. After we're all done."

"Humans always want more."

"I just want..." Eric sighed. "I just don't want to end up like my father. I think that's my problem. I don't want... I don't want to go through what he went through, never in my life."

"I know."

"And I know what I've been telling myself. 'You can handle it a little longer. It's fine if you do.' It doesn't feel right, but I do it anyway."

"Poor you. You have it _so hard_."

"So I see where you are coming from. When you're being mean. Like when you drink from my favourite mug just so that I have to wash it before I drink from it."

"Hey. This time, you're the one that gave it to me."

"I know."

"I don't even like your stupid mug. I like the red ones more."

"I know."

"You're being weird right now, Eric."

"I know." Eric rubbed his face. "I guess what I want to say is that I like you."

"I know that. That was the entire point about you suddenly becoming very difficult to deal with, from what I understood. I don't even understand why you even like me if I'm such an ass to you - your own word was an asshole. Need I remind you that you called me an asshole?"

"Yeah. And you are one, don't get me wrong."

"That still doesn't answer my question. Why should I even believe that you like me if you have no reason to?"

"Why do _you_ like me?"

Silence.

"I know you don't care about whatever curse threat Lola makes. You're probably more powerful than she will ever be, yet you didn't cast a single spell on me afterwards."

Silence.

"I don't know how deeply you like me, but I think that it pains you to see me suffer. And since you're not answering, I'm taking this as a confirmation."

"If it pains me to see you suffer, how come I made you suffer so much that you snapped?"

"If I had to venture a guess, I would say pride. You're a very proud creature. For good reason. But it's your downfall."

"Well, yours is greed."

"Mine is fear."

"Then pride is fear as well. Which means we're the same, which we are not."

"I do believe we are, on some level, very similar."

"I don't."

"Suits yourself."

"No, we are _not_ similar, we're not in the same position. _You_ put _yourself_ in this mess, and I'm stuck with you. That's the difference between you and I. That's why I don't want to admit that sometimes... I might... find some measure of affection regarding you, despite everything. But you always have the choice in your hands and I _hate_ you."

This time, it was Eric's turn to keep his silence. He clutched his shirt as he listened to Dimor's shaky breath, hoping he wasn't about to cry. But he didn't, and Dimor's breathing became quiet again.

"I hate you," said Dimor. "I hate this so much. I want to go home." 

Eric stood up.

"Oh, so you're leaving now," snapped Dimor. "Can't stand a little honesty? Coward."

"Put out your hand."

"What?"

"Put our your hand through the door."

"Why?"

"I want to give you something."

There was a silence. Something mored behind the door, and then it opened. Dimor's red hand extended through the opening waiting.

Eric unbuttoned his shirt and passed the chain around his neck over his head. The large jewel of his pendant glistened briefly before it rested in the palm of Dimor's hand, right before Eric let go. The trick was not to think about what he was doing, not listen to the voice in his head calling him weak as he did it. But that didn't stop a feeling of loss from settling over his heart.

Dimor didn't react. Those few seconds where everything stood still, where Eric could still snatch his heart back, became the longest seconds of the human's life. But he did nothing and waited.

Dimor opened the door, and the look of pure astonishment on his face would have been funny any other time than this one. He looked at his heart, then at Eric, then back at his heart. He quickly pulled it to his chest, curling his arms and shoulders around it as if to protect it. His face screwed up. A tear rolled down his cheek. His breath was shaking again, but he remained quiet, so quiet, as waves after waves of emotion rolled and coiled over him.

And Eric stood there, watching all that unfold. He just felt... sad. He thought he knew what came after.

He didn't. 

Suddenly, Dimor stood straight. The empty golden shell, that had held his heart for so long, fell to the floor with a clink, followed by its chain.

Then all hell broke loose.

There was a _wave_ of power that knocked Eric back against the wall of the hallway. He heard the sound of glass shattering - or maybe that was his own bone? When he looked up, there was Dimor's face, and his eyes, his eyes glowed red, red with magic and ancient power. A hand came around his throat, holding him up against the wall.

"I can hurt you," whispered Dimor. The words hit with the weight of a raging storm being held down for two hundred years.

That was the moment where Eric's brain caught up with what was happening and he started to be very, very afraid.

Dimor brought his other hand up, showing it off. It morphed, the black nails becoming black, long talons. The type that could pluck eyes out like olives. He slowly flexed his fingers as he approached them from Eric's face.

"I promised myself that I would do it, once I was free. Destroy everything, that was." Dimor's face was voided of all emotion; he spoke in a soft, over-articulate voice.

"No. Please, don't."

"I won't." He let Eric go. The latter fell to his knees in front of Dimor, too shocked to stand. "Things are not as simple as they used to be."

Eric looked up. They shared a long look, and he tried, with all of his will, to see anything in those eyes, but there was nothing, nothing he could distinguish. Just power, from that red glow. Never before had he realized so acutely how Dimor could become the villain of his story.

"I'm leaving," he said.

Before Eric could say anything, he was moving past him. He heard a bang, saw the last of Dimor's tail slip around the corner, and looked over it just in time to see the last of him pass through the window. There was the flap of large wings.

And then, silence. A breeze came to caress his cheek. 

This time, Lola didn't reply right away. He remained there, listening to the low beep of the phone, and the only reason he didn't hang up already was that he felt too weak to move.

"Yes? Eric?"

"Did you already tell your friends that you weren't looking for a demon anymore?"

"Yes, why?"

"Can you do me a favour and tell them that there was a mistake?"

"What? What did Dimor do again? Do you want me to talk to him? You guys had a deal. He can't just come back on it like that. That's blackmailing."

"Dimor didn't do anything."

"He didn't? Is he holding you hostage now?"

"No. Dimor's gone."

Silence.

"What do you mean, he's gone? He ran away?"

"No. He's gone." Eric looked at the open window, that window he had not even closed yet. "I gave him his heart back, and he left."

"You can't be serious."

"I couldn't hold him against his will anymore. I just couldn't."

"You can't be serious." She breathed in deeply, to calm herself. "Eric. We got a whole company to set up against all odds. We got a project. We got a product. We got a team. And you're telling me that he's gone? Just like that?"

"Yeah."

"Eric, you fucking--" She breathed in deeply. "Why?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"What is happening, Eric? Is there something I don't know about? Did he threaten you in some way? Threaten your family?"

"No."

"Then what? Give me a reason why I shouldn't curse you for just thinking about yourself, Eric. We were going to change the world. We were going to make it better. This is my dream you're crushing, Eric. Ever since I was a little girl. And you're telling me that he's gone?"

"Listen... I'm just telling you that. I'll explain later."

"Later? _Later?_ Why the fuck did you do that? Just... Just tell me! That's all I'm asking. All I ask!"

"I'm going to cut contact for a few days. I need some time."

"Eric--"

He cut the call. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine if the story ended here. 
> 
> It doesn't, obviously, but _imagine_.


	29. The Visitors

He woke up and stared up at the ceiling.

If the universe had been a kinder place, he wouldn't have remembered the events of yesterday as soon as his eyes opened. But it wasn't, and he did, and he immediately felt like shit.

He was so stupid. What had he been expecting? That Dimor threw himself in his arms and confessed his undying love? As if he was the type. He was too proud for that, to wild to allow himself to be tied down, even by love - if there was any love between them, that was. Thinking back, he should have known how it ended before he even gave the jewel back.

Would he change his actions if he could?

That question had haunted him all night. The fact that he didn't know the answer to it was strange enough. It used to be a clear cut answer: he had given away his means to become rich. Of course, he should regret his action because now he had less of a chance than he ever had. And yet... He couldn't help but think about how Dimor was finally free, after all those years. Was he happy? Reunited with his family.

He could have remained laying down in his bed to sulk all day but that would have been against his character. He didn't like sleeping in anyway. So, taking a deep breath, he got up from his bed and stretched. He then pondered if he should change into day clothes, and decided that it might help him feel refreshed. He refused to fall into the sinking sands of depression and would fight it to the very end if he had to.

It was a good thing that he did, despite the fact that he did not expect the visitors in his living room. 

The woman, that was sitting with her front to the door, was the first that caught his eye. She was beautiful, even to Eric, with pale skin and jet black hair. On the side of her eyes were jewels like droplets, embellishing her electric blue gaze; he stopped pondering whether they were from her skin or glued on when she stood up and he noticed the large, dragonfly-like wings on her back. She smiled at him and it was one of the most peaceful, serene smile he had ever seen. Her clothes were strange, a wide dress open to on the side, but made of a cloth that shimmered and rippled as she moved, like water.

Her face was very familiar.

And then he turned his eyes and realized that Dimor was the man standing near the heater, looking like he could use a hot water bottle to help him wake up. His bright red hair was tied back in an elaborately braided bun and he had his human legs. Eric was surprised to see ram-like horns on his head, as well as long, red ears in the place of his human ones. Eric recognized the red gem on is forehead... but never had it pulsed like that before, in the pace of a heartbeat. And never had his clothes suited him as well as they did now: they looked like his skin had turned into them, save for his long skirt.

"Eric," said the woman. "Good morning."

"Good morning?"

"You seem confused. Let me introduce myself. You may call me Pandora. That's not my real name, I just want you to remember that if you cross me I'll crack you open like a box." Her smile widened, revealing that all of her teeth were sharp fangs. "Literally."

Eric cautiously took a step back.

"Now that we are on the same page, you should take a seat." She did that herself, before turning to Dimor. "You too."

Eric didn't want to take a single step closer to her, but he supposed he was going to have to approach her. But he did make sure that he would pick the furthest seat away from the woman. Coming closer was a bit too much for him, especially considering he had not even taken his coffee yet.

Dimor looked like he really wanted to go back to bed, despite the fact that he was dressed as if he was going out to some fancy fantasy ball. Eric's heart went out to him.

"So, you are the man that has kept Dimor prisoner all this time," she said. "You don't look two hundred."

"Mother," said Dimor. "I told you that they passed me down in his family."

"Humpf," she said. "So you've been keeping him for how long, exactly?"

"I... I think it's something like nine to ten month?" Eric said.

"A, lucky you." She clasped her hands together. "I was going to break one fo your fingers for each full year you've kept him. Of course, my son has grown soft during his time among you humans and has opposed it, but it wouldn't have hurt to make the threat linger a bit." She beamed. "It would teach you some humility."

"Mother."

"Yes, yes, I know, this one should be left... unharmed, as you said yourself. But you must understand how concerned I am about your well-being. You seem to not agree with that, human."

Eric was startled by the last statement. He didn't indeed, although he had thought his face pretty well guarded. But he should have known that she would be able to read his face like an open book; after all, if she was Dimor's mother, she couldn't be anything else but ancient.

"If..." He didn't really know how to formulate the question without risking decapitation by her hand, so he just asked. "If you're so concerned with him, why didn't you come and help him earlier? Not that I doubt your sincerity."

She laughed. "Doubt my sincerity? I hope not. But no, let's just say..." she eyed her son. He made an effort to look even more unamused. "He was being taught a lesson. But I think he got the point now, and he'll stop being so irresponsible with his heart."

Dimor frowned and reached to his forehead, touching the gemstone there.

"Although," she continued, "seeing that we are now back in this absolutely dreadful world, I have my doubts on the subject. But that will be a question best answered by time itself, hmm?"

Eric glanced at Dimor to see if he had any idea what she meant by that but the other wasn't looking at him. He was not spacing out, as he did sometimes in the morning. Eric's heart went out to him, and he could no longer keep quiet.

"The water bottle is in the cabinet kitchen if you like. Over the sink."

Dimor sent him a look that Eric couldn't decipher before he muttered a few words. Some bangs came from the kitchen, where Eric was now sure the hot water bottle was filling on its own. He just hoped that nothing else was broken.

"I have heard things about you, Eric," said Pandora.

He turned his attention back to her.

"I'm under the impression that you have been making declarations of romantic nature to my son," she continued. "Is that correct?"

"That is." Eric did his best not to feel embarrassed that she knew. He wasn't going to hide his feelings for Dimor, whatever they may be. Not anymore. He had nothing to win by that.

"Well, just making sure." She sighed. "That always happens eventually with humans. I suppose I can't say much about it myself as long as Dimor tolerates it."

The hot water bottle, probably heated with magic, floated over from the kitchen. Dimor grabbed it and cuddled it. He seemed very happy when he was not required to participate in the conversation.

"May I ask another question?" said Eric.

"You may."

"Why are you here?" Eric gestured to both of them. "I was under the impression that I wouldn't see Dimor again. He didn't seem to give me any indication that he wanted to come back."

She turned to her son. Several moments passed before he realized that he was expected to answer that.

"Well--" He fumbled for his words. "I have unfinished business here."

Eric felt his heart quicken as he hoped.

"By which I mean, I would feel bad if I abandoned you and your stupid company project. I think that it can prove interesting."

"I am also of the opinion that humans and fairies have stayed apart for too long," said Pandora. "A little push in the right direction might tip the power balance in the human world, and that would be out cue for us to move in. After all, those holding the reigns have done so for quite a while. I think that it's our turn."

Ah. So it was some sort of political game that they were playing. Eric supposed that it would make sense. He didn't expect fairies of all things to agree with his endeavour, but he supposed that their alliance was better than no alliance at all... even if Pandora presented herself as a dangerous friend to have.

"Oh," said Eric. "I suppose it makes sense."

"Of course it does. Us fairies are rational beings, after all. Save maybe sometimes for a few exceptions..." She sent a glance in the direction of her son. "But in my opinion, it only makes them more endearing. That, and I wouldn't have married a dragon if I didn't have the capabilities to handle a more hot-headed personality."

"Mother." Dimor seemed a little more awake, now. "You have seen Eric for yourself. Is there anything else you wish to do while you're here?"

"Hmm." She smirked at him. "Are you that impatient to be left alone with your toy? Haven't you seen enough of him already?"

"Mother*."

"Fine, fine." She stood up. "And you haven't even offered me a drink. Really, contemporary humans are losing their manners. I'll be taking my leave."

"Please stay safe," said Eric.

"Is that a threat?" she answered. "Or perhaps you wish to witness the extend of my power as proof?"

"No!" Eric was horrified. He had said that without thinking. "No, it's just a... polite thing to say."

"I know." She chuckled. "Although it is entertaining to see you go pale. I can see how my son might have gotten attached to you."

She turned around and made a complicated gesture with her two hands; a door suddenly appeared on the wall, where there had been none before. But right before she opened it, she paused and look over her shoulder.

"Do not disappoint me," she said.

"I... will not?" answered Eric.

She chuckled and went through the door. For the brief moment that it was open, a wind charged with smells and... something else (magic?) blew through the room. But when it closed, the door vanished into the wall, leaving behind a puddle of water on the ground. Eric stood up, shocked by the demonstration of magic in his living room.

"That's an Archfey for you," said Dimor. 

Eric turned to him and observed him in silence. Dimor was back, sitting in his living room. He looked... wilder. Or maybe the world he was looking for was more powerful. Whatever it was, Eric was taking the full measure of his lame humanity when he compared himself to the ethereal beauty of the vouivre.

"What?" said Dimor. "Is there something on my face?"

"You're back."

"Yes, I am indeed. I'll be coming back and forth between my world and yours as I please, though. The tiny room you've gotten me will not do."

Eric breathed in deeply. Now that the terrifying Pandora was gone, he could fully appreciate Dimor's presence. He was happy he had gotten to see him again.

"Do you want coffee?" Eric said.

Dimor's lips stretched into a half-smile. "So, I get coffee and not my mother?"

"Well-- I mean, I was a little overwhelmed, so I didn't think on the spot..."

"No no. I like that. My mother would probably hate coffee anyway."

"More for us."

Dimor gave him a tight smile, before standing up. "I'll take some coffee. I won't be staying long, because I still have business in Erbothia, but I wouldn't mind staying a while."

"And I can ask you all the questions I want?"

"Didn't you already get answers to them?"

"I might not know how to deal with fairies as Lola does, but I do know something: ask the important questions several times. So, why did you decide to come back?"

Dimor paused before answering. "I'm a prideful person. I need closure here before I can move on. Even if our relationship isn't the most... peaceful, I would regret it if I just left without seeing this business of yours to its end."

"I thought you were not interested in human stuff."

"I changed my mind. And, of course, it is my duty as a son to further my mother's goals." He sighed. "One thing I have certainly not missed during my time in the human world was fairy politics. It's as grinding as being fucking in the ass with no lube."

Eric winced at the mental image. "It doesn't sound... agreeable."

"Faries are said to love it. I'm only half of that, so sometimes I wished some things could be solved with a good couple of punch to the face. Of course, my mother disagrees."

"And your father?"

"He doesn't concern himself with it. He would have come as well if he agreed with me going back to the human world so soon."

"He doesn't?"

"No, of course not. He missed me." Dimor trailed off, looking outside, before adding, "they all have, in their own way."

"I'm glad you get to see them again."

Dimor didn't answer, lost in thoughts. Then he shook his head and turned an irritated gaze to Eric.

"So? My coffee?"

Eric hurried to the kitchen to start making it. He supposed Dimor didn't really want to elaborate on the subject with the man that had kept him prisoner. It was only natural.

However, as the water was heating, he walked back into the room to speak to Dimor once more.

"I must ask again though. Is it really all there is to you coming back?"

Dimor, that had walked to the window to look down at the street, turned an unamused gaze his way.

"Are you trying to ask me if I came back out of any sort of... attachment to you, Eric? If that is the case, I would appreciate if you just asked, instead of annoying me with pointless questions."

Eric, caught red-handed, felt his cheeks burn. "Well, did you?"

Dimor didn't reply. Instead, he turned and walked to Eric until they were only a step away from each other. There was a glint in his eyes as he looked over the human.

"It does play a part in it," he said. "Although I do not wish to talk about how large a part that might be, and I won't tolerate being asked about it. But, most importantly..."

He stepped in even closer, until they were within kissing distance; the glint had spread to his slowly rising smile.

"I wouldn't be opposed to an encore of that one time we had together."

Dimor's advances were so out of the blue that Eric came up blanc when he tried to reply. The vouivre licked his lips like when he was presented with a plate of fish. Things had changed since they had last seen each other, more than Eric had realized. They were no longer a master and a possession but a human and a very powerful fairy; the hunter had become the hunted.

And the new role fit Dimor like a glove.

"Will it turn out like last time?" asked Eric.

"Depends on you. Be nice to me, and I might be generous."

Eric wanted to answer that he wouldn't agree to anything if he didn't get at least something from it, but that would be a lie. If Dimor pressed the right buttons, he would get anything he wanted from Eric. With a face like his, he could do that.

Dimor chuckled and leaned away. "But don't get too attached. I might be back, but it's only temporary."

"What-- What do you mean?"

Dimor's smile vanished. "I promised my mother. The moment you don't need me anymore, I'm staying in Erbothia and I won't be coming back out for the next hundred years."

Eric remained thunderstruck, eyes wide, mouth gaping. This couldn't be possible.

"That is the only reason why I was allowed back in the first place - unattended, that was. My mother would have sent in one of my siblings in my place. I wouldn't tolerate it, so I promised and now I am word-bound. As in, I signed a contract."

"A contract?"

"My mother likes to make sure that I keep my word. Now, the water's boiling and I'm thirsty."

Eric didn't know what to say as he returned into the kitchen. His heart was heavy with dread.


	30. Finwer

There was a unicorn in the garden. It grazed near the pond with the tranquillity of a beast that didn't know that it was watched. Dimor knew that if he went down to meet him, that it would be startled by his presence and might run away at first but, given enough time, it would come back and maybe they could talk together. Unicorn those days, however, only worried about nonsensical things such as the weather and the flavour of the water. In older times, when they still roamed the earth, they used to be the ambassadors of beasts among men and lords of the forest. Or so Dimor had been told. He was not born to witness it, as unicorns had been among the first to flee the hunts of men.

He wondered what Eric would think about unicorns. He would probably be fascinated, at least until the novelty wore off. How stange, Dimor thought, that he used to take unicorns for granted.

And how strange it was to be standing in his old room when so much time had passed by.

Just by looking at his room, Dimor realized how young he had been when he had been taken away; maybe not in body but in his mind. What had been his most pressing concern back then? Gossip? Petty drama? He couldn't even remember what it might have been for the life of him. Remaining among humans had been an eye-opener, at least, if anything.

But how good it was, to live among his old stuff again? He was rediscovering his old book and _his bed was actually wide enough for him_, which promised him a lot fewer tail sores when he awoke in his full form. He sighed in content as he flopped on it and revealed his tail. He had slept in it last night. It had been a dream come true.

Now, the only thing missing from it was a warm-blooded companion or two and it would be perfect. The water bottles Eric used to prepare for him were nice and all but they paled in comparison with the real thing. Of course, there were always the family slaves, that could be borrowed, or any fairy that wouldn't be crushed, but Dimor's mind couldn't get off the fact that Eric might be the most well-suited for the job. Mostly because he might agree to anything that they might do the morning after - and also because he was the only one that Dimor could think of that didn't have any sort of political agenda in mind if he did agree.

That was another thing that felt odd after having been out of touch with it for so long: the fairies obsession with plotting and scheming. It was as if something about the fact that they couldn't lie made them want to hide and disguise the truth even more, as if they wanted to show off how good they were at circumventing their condition. It only gave Dimor headaches. The strong-willed dragon blood boiled in his veins; he didn't have the time or the patience to slowly unravel the twisted words of others, wondering what might be their intentions. He already missed the simplicity of talking with Eric - even if said talking had started to become challenging in its own way towards the end.

And there was the sex, too. Now that they were on equal footing, teasing Eric could prove to be very entertaining.

He must have dozed off thinking about ways to make the human get all flustered because he was startled by a knock on the door. He quickly sat up on his bed, checking that he was presentable before he snapped his fingers to open the door.

There stood his bother.

"Finwer," said Dimor.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked.

Dimor got up from the bed. "No, not at all. I must have closed my eyes while thinking about how strange it was to be back."

The other didn't answer. They had never been on the best terms; their personalities were too different for that to happen. Dimor was impulsive and spoke his mind, while Finwer was as cold as the icy blue of his scales. When the differences were this extreme, their meshing seemed to be a receipt for disaster. To add to that, there was an incident in their past that had opposed them ever since. They seldom spoke of it.

Dimor wondered if they had a chance of getting along this time around.

"Is there something you wished to tell me?" he asked.

"Not I, but mother."

He stepped out of the shadow around the entrance of Dimor's room, into the light pouring through the window. On his forehead, his own heart pulsed with an uncharacteristic slowness. His black hair was cropped to the length of his jaw and his green eyes were underlined with a single blue line, the same colour than the scales that crept around the underside of his define cheekbones. His tail, even in his most human form, trailed on the ground behind him, only animated by the slightest of undulations when he walked.

"She wants you to know that the celebration of your return will be taking place in two weeks."

"Two weeks?"

"She has settled on how large she wants it to be and how long it will take to prepare everything. She has forced quite a few changes of plans for this to happen - hers, and those of others."

"Including yours?"

The way Finwer's eye twitched told Dimor that he had hit the bullseye with his words. His brother had not changed. Under his indifference, he was as irritable as ever.

"My avatars will not fade and wither just because I am away from them," he replied. "I can spare the time to come and help with the organisation."

"Still doing that?"

"Still? That is my life's work. Without it, our family's slaves would perish just as quickly as real humans, and they are a symbol of our power and endurance. Not that you would care about that."

"I do care." Dimor was mildly annoyed at well at his brother's accusations. Finwer was at it again, talking to him like he was a child, except that he wasn't. He had not been a child in a long, long time. "Not that I care about what others think of our family, but I would rather you do what you wish to do instead of having to stand your foul mood."

"I am never in a foul mood. Unlike you."

"You know nothing of me."

"I could return those words right back at you."

The two brothers stared at each other in stubborn silence. Dimor resisted the urge to stand taller on his tail; that would only prove to the other that he was just as childish as he used to be. Such tricks only impressed humans.

Instead, he sighed and looked down, submitting to his older brother's gaze only to lower the tension in the air. Both noticeably calmed.

"I did not mean to offend you, Finwer. In fact, I do not wish to fight with you anymore."

"Is that so? That is surprising, coming from you out of all people."

"But it is true." Dimor hesitated before saying the rest, but he had to. "I missed you. I didn't think that I would, but I did. Even with you being your usual insufferable snooty self."

The comment seemed to have taken his older brother by surprise, for an expression of shock briefly passed over his face. But, used as he was to the shenanigans of the fairy way, he quickly soothed his face in it usual expressionless mask.

Dimor decided that it was perhaps best if he kept talking, offering a respite to Finwer.

"I'm no longer the same child that was taken away. I've learned a lot among humans. I would like for you to offer me a chance to prove to you that I am not as reckless as I used to be."

"A chance? Do you realize what you are asking for?"

Suddenly, Finwer was getting agitated, his tail whipping the air behind him in annoyance. Dimor stood his ground, unafraid. He was ready to hear what his brother had to say.

"Do you realize what sort of position your little escapade has put us in? Some of our siblings might have been captured by humans before, but never to the point of being rid of their powers. And it was a human that was your undoing! We've been the laughing stock of all the nobility for fifty years after you left. And now, with your return, they are speaking of it again. Why do you think mother is going all out on a party to celebrate your return? She wants people to talk about it, instead of remembering that embarrassing time where you, son of an Archfairy, were caught by a _mere witch_."

"There was a demon--"

"A demon? Do you think the rumours care about _that_?"

Dimor opened his mouth to protest before he realized that if he did they would fight again. So he closed it and lowered his head. It was true that, back in the day, he had not really cared about the consequences of his actions as long as he got his fun. And, in the end, he had brought harm to not only himself but the people he cared for. He was well aware of that.

Finwer seemed to realize that he had let his emotions get the best of him. He took a deep breath, forced his shoulders to drop, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"And yet, despite that, I'm willing to find the strength to give you another chance," he said. "Maybe because I had two hundred years to gather the courage to do so."

"I know that you will not regret it."

"I doubt that you know me well enough to say that."

"But I know myself, at least."

"Perhaps."

There was a silence. Dimor felt as if it was the time to make a concession. He knew he was taking a risk when he spoke, but they couldn't go on ignoring the elephant in the room forever.

"If you wish to test my goodwill, I can offer to help you make your avatars. You said that you had to sacrifice time helping to organise the celebration. If I helped you, you'll get more work done with less time."

"You mean, work with you?"

"Yes."

Finwer seemed to think about it for a while, crossing his arms and looking at the ceiling. Dimor knew how charged the proposition was to him and gave him all the time he needed, even if the wait quickly became nerve-wracking.

"Is there anything left of what you used to know?" asked Finwer.

"I don't know. I guess we would quickly find out. It wouldn't hurt to try. If I'm really that bad at it, you can kick me out of your lab."

"Kick you out... as opposed to you walking out while calling me names."

"That was ages ago. Are you still mad about that?"

Finwer didn't reply. He just stared. There was a cold harshness in his eyes.

"Look..." Dimor passed his hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. I was an ass, and in the wrong when I did that."

"Hmm. Go on."

"I know you're my brother, but it doesn't change the fact that you did take a risk when you took me as an apprentice. And I spat on it."

"That you did."

"But I do want to make things right between us. How long has it been? Two hundred and fifty years?"

"Fifty-_four_."

"How long are we going to keep this up? I know we don't get along most of the time, but I'm tired of holding a grudge."

"As long as I needed before hearing a sorry."

Dimor looked into his brother's face with hope. Finwer responded with a small, brief smile, but really he looked sad. Sad about what, Dimor could only guess.

"So... does that mean that you'll allow me to set foot in your lab again?" Dimor asked.

"I suppose."

"Thank you."

It felt natural to reach for Finwer's hand and hold it for a while; Finwer, usually so skirmish about being touched, allowed it. And then they let go, and there was no awkwardness. This was the most peaceful Dimor had felt in his brother's presence in what felt like forever.

"I also owe you a sorry," said Finwer. "For back then."

"No, you don't."

"I was not the most patient--"

"And I was rebellious--"

"Hush. Let me finish." He waited for Dimor to nod. "I was impatient with you and I asked for too much. I was the one that insisted that you'd learn to build avatars but I was already regretting my decision."

"Because I was making it difficult."

"Whatever the case might be, I was not the fairest with you either. I can't say that at least a quarter of what you yelled at me on that day wasn't deserved."

"if you're asking for forgiveness--"

"I am."

"You have it."

This time, genuine joy shone on Finwer's face. Dimor understood that, despite the fact that he seldom showed it, his brother genuinely appreciated him - and that he appreciated back. Maybe they could get along.

Finwer, however, quickly composed himself, chasing his emotions out of his expression once again.

"This shall be one last problem on my mind," Finwer said. "I am glad that we have finally come to an understanding."

Dimor laughed. He was happy, a little high after having opened his heart and seen his brother reciprocate. "It was about time."

"You have changed, as you said." Finwer rubbed his chin. "I'm still waiting to see how much you have and if they are permanent, but I'm starting to think that there might still be hope for you."

"Come on, don't be such a sour grape."

"I have every reason to be, although for once you are not among them. No offence to you, I'm glad you're back, but I would have been fine without having to organise and attend that party..."

"Trust me, you're not alone."

"You? I thought you liked parties."

"Yes, the small ones where I get to pick the guests, not the huge ones mother likes to throw."

"You'll probably get to pick at least one, knowing her."

Dimor's mind jumped to Eric. And, just like that, he had a plan all laid out in front of him.


	31. The Interview

Not having Dimor around felt... odd. Save for a few exceptions, they had not been separated over the last few months, and now Dimor only visited when he wasn't busy... doing whatever he was doing, it seemed. He was most likely catching up with the people he knew. His family. 

Eric didn't know how he felt about it.

On one hand, there was a weight off his chest. He no longer had to carry around the guilt of keeping someone against his will. He had not realized how heavy that charge had been on his conscious until he was rid of it; he was grateful that it was gone and that he could dedicate his energy to something else. 

But on the other hand, he missed Dimor. And he didn't want to lose him. No longer holding his head meant no longer being an obligatory part of Dimor's life. Losing that power meant that he could be cast aside. And he would be cast aside, eventually. There was no way he would get to see Dimor once he was forced to remain a thousand years in Erbothia. Unless-- 

Well, unless Dimor invited him to visit, or there was a way for normal humans to visit (doubtful, although one could always hope.) He didn't dare to ask about it. Who was he, Eric the jailer, to expect being allowed seeing Dimor? And while maybe Dimor wouldn't be against it (although he might), his mother sure looked like she would stop them from meeting again if she could. After all, she had been the one that made Dimor sign the damn contract in the first place, right? 

Yet, he couldn't help but hope that Dimor would eventually bring it up. Maybe even find a solution that entailed some sort of magic or ritual. Eric had no idea if that was a thing, but he hoped it was. 

But that was for another time. At the moment, he was sitting at a table at Maisy's, waiting for Eng to show up. He had finally come around to have a talk with the guy and see how he could contribute to the company - and he was surprised when the name of the place had come up. He knew it was a pretty good coffee shop, but he was surprised that someone with a background as impressive as Eng's would come to a place like that. It seemed so... ordinary. Not the place you would expect to meet any sort of supernatural creature like Eric theorised Eng was. 

Even then, Eric did not expect the man that entered the coffee shop and walked up to his table. Not because he had never seen someone like him before but because he _knew_ him, he had seen him around the coffee shop a few times. He was a short, tan man of obvious Asian ascendance, with his dark hair and piercing eyes. One couldn't help but notice him when he warked in a room: he oozed quiet confidence, the type an unmovable mountain exuded, yet there was a tempered quality about him, one that made him approachable. 

Eric felt a weight come off his chest. He didn't know what he would have done if he had been facing someone both unknown to him and scary to top it off.

Eric stood from his seat and they shook hands. 

"Excuse me for being late," said Eng. "I received a call that I had to answer." 

"Oh, that's not a worry-- I didn't even notice." 

"But you were waiting." 

"I didn't." 

Eng gave him a tight smile as he sat in front of Eric. He crossed his hands on the table. He was dressed in smart but casual clothes, the sort of clothes Eric might wear himself to work. Eric appreciated that. For someone that might be looking for a work partner, there was something very attractive about Eng. 

"So, how are you today?" asked Eric. 

"I'm fine, thank you for asking. And you?" 

"I am." 

The waitress came up to them to ask for their order. Eric said he wanted a coffee and Eng added that he would be taking the same thing with a sweet smile. She left them to their devices. 

"So, let's get started," said Eric. "I couldn't help but wonder how you found out about my project. It's just odd that you would be the one to contact me out of the blue." 

"Didn't I mention it already? It was through a friend of a friend. I was very interested when he mentioned it in passing, and asked about it some more."

"Can you give me a name?" 

His smile tightened before he answered. "Carl Hinstead." 

"Never heard of him." 

"Is this some sort of interrogatory?" Eng laughed. "How I heard about your work is not that important. I'd rather you ask me what are my strong points and my weak points, or what I am looking for in the job." 

That was the point, thought Eric. He would rather answer that. But it was a legitimate question to ask in his opinion and one that had not received an answer yet. He made a mental note of the name Eng had given. If Lola didn't know about it then he would take that Eng lied to him. 

"Let's talk about that, then," said Eric. "I do wonder what are your motives behind contacting us. I've seen your resume, it's very impressive." 

"And not very _diverse_, if I might add," said Eng. "It is important to note that I am a person that loves taking risks. What you are proposing is a novelty and a challenge. And I want to be the one in charge of selling that to people that don't even know that they need it." 

"You think that you would be more capable than me at that?" 

Eng nodded. "I already have contacts. And prestige. Many will disagree with this decision, if there is a time to start taking a risk and test what I am worth, it's now."

"You believe that you are taking a risk?"

"I don't believe, I _know_. But you must understand..." He paused, joining the tips of his fingers from both hands as he thought about what to say next. "I know I have talent and ambition, and because of that, I've had so many things... handed to me? Or at least I have acquired so much more than others would have in my situation. I live a privileged life. And it's not because I was born rich, my mother was quite a poor woman when she birthed me-- I crave this feeling of fighting against the flow from when I was climbing the echelons a few years back. Does that make sense?" 

The waitress came back with both of their coffees, placing them on the table. Eric wanted to pay her, but Eng insisted to pay his part and would have also added Eric's order it in if he could have had. She walked away with a hefty tip from both of them. Eric retained from the experience that Eng seemed quite proud about having money and eager to show it off. He took good note of it.

"As long as you don't put the project itself at risk..." said Eric.

"I would never." 

"Speaking of the project, I want to know how you came to know about... the Veil, and the supernatural creatures beyond that." 

The question seemed to take him by surprise. He didn't resist looking around himself to see if anyone was listening. 

"I was born with it," said Eng. 

"With... the ability to see beyond the Veil?" Like Lola? She had mentioned something along those lines, once. 

"Yes. My mother was a witch and she passed her powers down to me. Of course, I never did much with it, but it has its uses, like when I find the imp that's been stealing my pen for the last week."

"You never wished to use those abilities to become a witch?" 

"A warlock-- That's the male version of a witch. And no. It never appealed to me. I like to be able to rely on myself, so making a contract with a magical creature didn't have much of an appeal to me. I was much more interested in buying and selling anyway. As fascinating and nuanced as the work of witches might be, it isn't very... lucrative. As you know yourself." 

"As I know myself?" 

Eng paused. "You also have the Vision, right?" 

"Ah--" Eric shook his head. "Actually, no. But it's a long story." 

"You don't?" 

"Didn't know that it existed a year ago. I'm still learning." 

Eng chuckled. "That's unexpected. So you see nothing at all?" 

"Nothing. There would be a demon standing in the middle of the room and I would be none the wiser." He paused. "Demons are invisible, right?" 

"They are. They don't even like making themselves visible to mortal unless summoned through a ritual - and when they are, they get rather... moody. It takes effort for them to even take a corporeal form, but they do like to hide in pocket planes and control their minions from there." 

Eric thought he had Eng right then, so he pressed him. "You seem to know a lot about demons."

"I do, I do. It was my mother's speciality. Of course, once she had a child, that became too dangerous, but her contractee was a cambion and I could ask her every question I wanted - granted that my mother wasn't around."

"A cambion? What is that?" 

"A half-demon, half-human." 

"Wait, those exist?" 

"Of course." Eng shrugged. "Although it's usually not a good thing." 

"How so?" 

"Not make would willingly lay with a demon, although there are exceptions. But careless summoners can make the mistake to not ward themselves when they know that they are about to bring an angry demon in the world... The rest is easy to guess." 

Eric stared at him, confused. Eng took the cue that he was not guessing. 

"Cambions are almost always the product of rape," he said. 

"Oh."

"And, on top of that, they have to deal with the destructive instincts of their infernal parent, while being raised by a human that is not equipped to deal with them. You can imagine that it is not a joy for any of the party involved." 

"It doesn't sound... ideal." 

"It's not." 

There was so much that Eric didn't know about the supernatural world and what lay beyond the Veil. He felt a little intimidated. Lola didn't seem to think that talking about it was important and he had never asked Dimor many questions about it. Maybe he should. He was going to start reading up on it as soon as he got home. 

"But we are not here to discuss cambions... correct?" said Eng. 

"No, we are not. I suppose it is time that I ask you about your work history. I had a few questions concerning your resume." 

"I would be more than happy to enlighten you." 

That was the moment Eric started going down the list of Eng's recent employments, asking about each of them and what he had done at those companies. Eng answered them without ever departing from that quiet confidence of his. He knew what he was worth. He was certain that Eric would eventually give him the job. And, to his credit, Eric was very tempted to do just that. But there were still some questions he had to ask.

"I can't help but be impressed by everything you've done," said Eric. "You almost look too young for it." 

"Thank you," said Eng. "I'm often told that. But I assure you that I'm quite capable." 

"My only concern now is how much you expect to be paid. I can't imagine myself capable of offering you the same than any of those other positions you've worked." He went down the list again, with his eyes. It was all studies in economics and management then straight away a job in some giant company. "It might be a bit of a downgrade."

"Not everything should be about money," said Eng. "I'm looking for a challenge, clear and simple. I want to be part of the changes you are bringing. And then, of course, there is the fact that I believe that your company is bound to get big - very big. I expect to get paid accordingly." 

Something about the satisfied look on Eng's face made Eric laugh. He had come prepared to meet someone with an agenda, someone he should be wary of, but he couldn't help but like Eng. As an employee and as a person, he was attractive. 

Not as attractive as Dimor, but still. 

"You have a lot of faith in us," said Eric. "I'm not even sure that it's justified." 

"Would it be weird to say that I think you might get lucky?" 

It wasn't weird to say that, technically, yet it still struck Eric as that. He dismissed it. Just because Dimor was bringing him good luck didn't mean that he should be getting suspicious when other people mentioned it. After all, there was no way Eng would know about the fairy. 

"I'm glad you think so."

Eng smiled, revealing perfectly white teeth. 

They discussed details, salary, and Eng's character. Eng asked when he could expect a reply. "Soon," said Eric, knowing that it would be yes already. But it was towards the end of their meeting that Eng, once again, said something that raised Eric's eyebrows - mentally. 

"If I may be so bold," said Eng, "I'd like to be able to work alone. That's how I work best in my opinion. I don't dislike other people, far from it, but if they are anything less than extremely competent they get on my nerves rather quickly." 

"I'll most certainly consider that." 

"Professionally, I put high standards for myself. I have trouble dealing with people that don't. Of course, that is if you employ me."

"I trust that you know what's best for you," said Eric with a shrug. "And I'll make note of that."

"Thank you. Is there anything else that you wish to know?" 

"Not that I can think of at the moment."

Eng looked at his watch. "I have lunch with my wife, so forgive me if I don't stay any longer. My email and phone are always open to you if anything comes to mind." 

"You have a wife?" 

"And a child." He smiled fondly. "She's turning four very soon."

"That's adorable."

"She is." Eng was changed. His unmovable exterior was cracked and the glowing love he had for his little girl was spilling out. It wasn't that he had not been expressive before, it was just that it felt more spontaneous. "I would do anything for her."

Eric smiled back. He loved seeing people talk about their kids even if he wasn't very fond of them himself. He supposed that it was different when they were your own.

They said goodbye to one another briefly and Eng was off. Eric watched him leave, musing to himself about everything he had said and heard during that meeting. Already then, he knew that he would see the other again. 


	32. Finwer's Laboratory

The archways stretched out in front of him, golden and white, heavy with blooming glycine. On one side were the water gardens, where two of his siblings, Carthem and Idena, were currently lounging, and on the other was the kitchen garden. But he didn't look to either side, except when Idena called his name and waved at him. He smiled at her and waved back but didn't stop. There was an important meeting he needed to attend. 

At the end of the archways was a garden, isolated from the rest by short hedges, and a house of modest size - by fairy nobility standards. But what it lacked in size, it made up for it in care: it was a blend of romantic and luxurious, with large windows to let in a lot of light and a small decorative watchtower at the top. He rang the golden bell hanging under the porch and waited. 

A housekeeper, carrying the blue and gold uniform of their house, opened the door for him. 

"Master Finwer is expecting you," she said. "Please step in, he'll be with you in a moment." 

He followed her as she introduced him to a comfortable drawing-room. One could most certainly use it and find it up to the fairy standards, yet it didn't feel lived in; the cloth on the furniture felt too new, the glass covering of the low wooden table was too immaculate, the cushions placed too perfectly. This was the sort of space that his mother loved and that he hated. 

He flopped down on the couch, the excess of cloth he wore covering most of it, then tossed a cushion on one of the armchairs just to ruin the symmetry. There. It could be better, but this was most certainly an improvement. At least Finwer wasn't above cheating: upon closer inspection, the single rose on the low table revealed itself to be fake. 

He didn't wait much longer before he heard footsteps behind him. And although they had not seen in each for a full two days, the first thing Finwer did when he saw him was sigh. 

"Don't tell me you intend to work like _that_," he said, gesturing to Dimor's clothes. 

"I know." answered Dimor. He gave his brother an apologetic smile. "I was sort of hoping you would lend me something? I might have... accidentally... burned... my old labratory clothes. Just a little. And then now I can't find them." 

Something about Dimor's mannerism made Finwer cover his face with both of his hands, but not in exasperation. In fact, as he stood there, his shoulders started to shake imperceptively. And then he rubbed the under of his eye, as if wiping a tear, while breathing deeply. But Dimor was not fooled. His brother was trying not to laugh. 

"You never change," said Finwer. "And you're lucky I got apprentice that are more forgetful than you are. Come, we'll get you dressed in an extra until you can get something tailor-made. Right this way." 

He turned around and Dimor followed. After a short hallway, he opened a walk-in clothet in which there was rows and rows of lab coats, leather gloves, and other protective wear. Finwer skimmed through them before throwing and outfit he had chosen to his brother. 

"There you go," he said. "There is a room you can close behind you, go change." 

Dimor did as he was told. Once out of sight, he took off his cloak, folded it neatly, and left it on a chair before he dressed in the white overcoat. The protection it offered extended further than what the naked eye could see but, again, the products that they worked with also damaged further than what the naked eyes could see. One could never be too careful. 

"How do I look?" said Dimor, posing when he stepped out.

"This isn't a fashion display."

"Gee. Who pooped in your cereals?" 

"Did... _what_ in my _what_?"

"Human expression." 

"I know and it's _vulgar_. I hope you don't intend to speak like that in front of the other apprentice. That wouldn't reflect well on the--" 

"On the Aldeban name, I know, I know. I thought that since we are both alone, that we might speak more casually to one another. Seeing as we are brothers." 

"Seeing that we are brothers, you owe me... we both owe each other respect." 

It could have been so easy to keep pushing Finwer's buttons just then. He was such a strict killjoy at times that it was as if he walked around with a target for witty comebacks on his forehead. But Dimor also recognized that this went against all intended purposes and, for the sake of rekindling their link, was ready to make concessions. 

"Huh, I guess that's a good point," he said. "If it makes you happy, I'd be willing to do that." 

"Please do keep it in mind." 

They left for the lab proper after that, meaning that they went down a few stairs to reach the underground section of the house. The way, once daylight could no longer reach them, was lit by a few magical, luminous crystals suspender to the ceiling and the walls in the way that was best suited to use their light as much as possible. They could hear the chatter of voice as they approached the lab door; chatter that quickly died down when Finwer opened it.

"I hope you're all working properly," he said as he stepped in. 

The lab was seperated by archways in several sections, all dedicated to different activities. Six other people, students and assistants to Finwer, worked there on various parts of their current project. The tables were of polished marble, anything metallic was either brass or enchanted to look like it. There were bubbling tubes in a corner and everything needed to sew in the other, and in the center was what looked like a bed under a giant ball, next to a box full of levels and buttons. It looked like something from an old science-fiction movie. 

"Everyone, Dimor will be giving us a helping hand around here for a while. He is my brother, so treat him accordingly. That is all. Odrrin!" 

A fairy that Dimor didn't know stepped closer. He was young, for all Dimor could tell, around his two hundred years, with reddish hair and cheeks peppered with beauty marks. The slightly crooked teeth of his bright smile only added to the impression of youth he gave out. 

"Yes?"

"You'll be assissting Dimor over the basins. I want him to make a temporairy avatar to see how much he remembers of what I taught him." 

"As you wish." Odrring turned to Dimor. He seemed more than happy with the assignement, which surprised Dimor. Assisting a newcomer to the trade wouldn't have been Dimor's first pick when it came to fun activities. 

"Right this way, sir," he said.

Dimor followed him to the back, where there were several basins in a dimmly lit corner. At the bottom was what seemed to be some clay. He knew that the reality was a far more complex mixture of magic and moldable materials. Odrrin handed him a pair of the long leather gloves they used as protection when working in the basins. And even if he tried to hide it, Dimor saw that he was decieved that he wouldn't be helping him putting them on. 

"You know what an avatar is?" said Odrrin. "Humans that are captured and taken back by faires can't live very long in Erbothia, meaning that we need to make them a new, pernanent body that they can live in. And that's what--" 

"Odrrin," interrupted Dimor. "I know what my own brother does for a living, thank you." 

"Oh!" He became very red in the face. "I was just saying that-- That's usually what I say to everyone that's just started. I didn't mean any offence." 

"None taken." 

He chuckled. It was obvious that a weight had just been taken off his chest. "I got scared that I offended you." 

"It takes more than that to offend me. Between us... me and my brother are very different." 

"Oh, I must certainly didn't mean that Finwer was--" 

"He's got sharp ears. Don't talk about him more than the bare minimum, before he starts thinking that we are talking in his back. He's probably already aware of our conversation, even if he doesn't show it." 

Dimor looked back. He briefly met Finwer's eyes, confirmind that he was right, but the older vouivre had already reported his attention on the mixture that he was preparing when Odrrin turned around. 

"Really?" asked the younger fairy. He didn't seem very reassured. "How good is his hearing?" 

"I would say that it's the level of a dragon's. He could easily eavesdrop on anyone in this room if he wanted. So can I." 

Odrrin turned back. He seemed a little pale. Dimor didn't dare pressing further, but he already knew what he could ask his brother about later when they would be alone. 

"Well then... Let's focus on our work now, shall we?" said Odrrin. "We can start molding right away and see how you manage that. If you have any questions, I'll be glad to answer them."

Dimor indeed had quite a few questions as he started to work on the clay-like material - the matrice - at the bottom of the basins. Odrrin was more than happy to answer them, quickly learning that if was best to wait that Dimor asked about something before starting to explain. Soon enough, Dimor had shaped a heart - he liked starting with the heart - and was starting to focus his magic to carve out the inside and solidify it so it wouldn't just return into shapeless matter under an hour. 

"You're not tiring?" asked Odrrin when Dimor was done. 

"No, not at all. It's rather relaxing." 

"You and Finwer are lucky you have so much magic at your disposal. When I first started working here, I remember feeling so tired at the end of each day. Now it's a lot better, but I certainly regretted not practicing my magical endurance." 

"It comes with a price. I've destroyed more than I've created throughout my life." 

"But still." Odrrin reached out under the water, resting his hand against Dimor's forearm. "I think it's amazing. I just met you but I already have a lot of admiration for you." 

Dimor knew the smile on Odrrin's face, he had just not expected to see it here of all place. He hid his surprise when he realized that he was being lightly flirted with and smiled back instead. But he already knew that he wasn't interested. He knew someone that pinned after him better. 

Odrrin must have taken it as a sign of reciprocation, because he became a lot more daring after that. And even if he kept his words guarded and professional, his hands went to touch Dimor quite often, on the arms and shoulders, and he'd stand close. Dimor didn't remark on it and didn't care what way his passivity could be read. He remembered that he used to recieve this sort of attention quite often before his heart was stolen. It came from the same place than the one May and Pepperoni had given him... unless Odrrin had some sort of hidden motives.

Dimor just wanted to focus on his work. A clingy little fairy was easily shrugged off, he never really minded them and Odrrin wasn't actively getting in the way. 

Well, on a second thought, he sort of was distracting, but not in the way he probably hoped he was. Each time he pressed a little closer, Dimor found himself wishing that it was someone else in his spot, someone that could be just as eager sometimes. 

Maybe tonight he'd pay him a visit. 

He was suddenly drawn out of his thoughts by a loud crash that prompted him to turn around. He spotted what was wrong immediately: Finwer was standing very still, his coat entire covered with a pink, sticky goop full of glass that Dimor knew was meant to become blood when fully prepared. There was a fairy in front of him, equally covered in much, but she looked as if she was about to faint. That meant that she was probably the one that had dropped the mess on her superior. 

"Just... clean it up, Sephra," he said eventually. 

"Right!" As if hearing Finwer's voice was all she needed to come out of her shock, she started to get active again, blushing when she noticed that everyone was looking at her. 

"Everyone should take a break," said Finwer. "It's time anyway." He looked across the room. "Dimor." 

His brother, understanding that this was a call, went to join him as they left. He was surprised that Finwer would want him to come but he wasn't about to question it. 

They left the room first and together, going up the stairs to the first floor. Finwer lead him to a different part of the house to change, where he removed his lab coat and put on a cloak that was more meant for lounging than working. They then moved to a balcony over the gardens, where they were free to lounge; the housekeeper that had opened the door for Dimor soon brought them some tea. Dimor asked for coffee and excused herself for not having that in stock. 

"It's all right," he said. It was not but he didn't have to drink.

Finwer blew on his cup. Carthem and Idena had left the basins in which they had been playing earlier, leaving the water gardens empty save for a single white duck preening on the side of a pond. 

"Odrrin is from a family of lesser nobles," said Finwer. "Lesser compared to us, that is. He's had comments about me being single in the past."

"Ah... so that's what it was," said Dimor. "I thought he had complained about you being too strict." 

"I'm not strict. Only fair. I reward good work and punish bad results." 

"Yeah, and your standards for good work are remarkably hight, brother. That's what one calls strict." 

"Compared to yours." 

"You don't know about mine. I've changed a lot." 

"Then you are in no position to claim that you know my standards."

"From what I can tell so far, you've changed very little. Just like everything in Erbothia. But maybe I'm biased after having lived in the human world..." Dimor trailed off. They both knew what he meant. 

Finwer took a sip and set his cup down. "How have you been adapting so far to your new life? I'm afraid I didn't really have the time to spend some time with you, lately." 

"Oh, there wouldn't be any time for us to talk anyway. Mother wants me to come with her and help her pick everything for the party. I think she's also showing me around as we are doing it, to prove that I'm really back." 

"As if they wouldn't believe her." 

"Who knows what she's up to, really. Or maybe she's just happy to see me again and wants to catch up but, of course, she would never admit it upfront." 

"You think so?" 

"I think that mother is strange in the way she chooses to show that she loves us." 

"Hmm." 

There was a silence again, but it wasn't an uncomfortable one.

"Has Odrrin ever made advances on you?" asked Dimor. 

"I think that I intimidate him too much. But he certainly looks at me when he thinks that I'm not looking."

Dimor had a thought for all the reflective surfaces in the lab.

"I've been forming him for a few years now," continued Finwer. "He's almost ready to go and work on his own, but I think that he always had the hope that I might be intrested in him." 

"And you're now?" 

Finwer shrugged. 

"He's cute," said Dimor.

"He's too... eager. And insincere, judging how fast he's switched his interest to you." 

"Can you blame him? You've left him with bated breath for years with not a crumb of attention. No wonder he eventually got bored." Dimor chuckled. "And now you're jealous I've stolen the show." 

"I'm not jealous." 

"I think you are. You secretly like the attention." 

"I don't need it." 

"But you like it." 

"Don't be ridiculous. If I liked it, I would work towards getting more of it instead of locking myself up in a lab." 

"That's the point. You like it so much you need to go through the extra steps just to prove that you don't. Like mother that will never tell her children that she loves them, but that will make me sign a contract just to make sure that I won't go back to the human world." 

"Oh, just shut up," said Finwer. "You're making no sense." 

Dimor chuckled again. Teasing his brother was fun. Almost as fun as teasing Eric, one might say. 

"I've been thinking about what you told me," said Finwer. "Brothers being more at ease with one another."

"Oh? Is there something you want to add?" 

"I was thinking that maybe we could get a little more relaxed against one another. Not to the point of being _vulgar_..." 

"Of course not." 

"But I think I like you better now." 

"Huh." Those were surprising words, coming from Finwer. But Dimor could accept them. "I like you better too. And I also think that we should spend more time together, after the madness of mother's party." 

"Your party." 

"_Mother's_ party." 

Finwer chuckled. It was a very, very quiet one. Dimor had never seen him laugh any other way than by shaking his shoulders. He was even smiling, if the small dip of his lips could be called that. 

"Are you free for dinner tonight?" asked Finwer.

"Tonight?" Dimor considered it for a moment before shaking his head. "Actually, I had other plans for tonight." 

"Oh? Someone more important than your own sibling?"

"Perhaps." Dimor felt himself smirking. "I have an itch that's been in need of a scratch." 

Finwer turned to him fully, both brows raised. "My my, Odrrin would be devastated to know. Unless..." 

"No, it's not with Odrrin. You're right when you say he's a little too eager, sometimes. Nothing's sweet than a little chase." 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this far! I hope you had a good time up to this point. The rest will be coming sometime soon!
> 
> I'd love if you took the time to write your thoughts, good or bad, on what is available so far. I take feedback very seriously. 
> 
> Until next Thursday!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Snake Heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21402568) by [Fair_Feather_Friend](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fair_Feather_Friend/pseuds/Fair_Feather_Friend)


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